


Bleeding Love

by Kiki0212



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pregnancy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 12:27:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 101,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19318162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiki0212/pseuds/Kiki0212
Summary: All her life she has only been promised one thing. That Lyla would bond the Baratheon family with the North when she marries Robb Stark.





	1. The Kingsroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla prepares on the Kingsroad to meet her betrothed, Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell.

"Are you afraid, Lyla?"

 _No_ , she thought. She was never afraid. She never cried in front of people since she was a little girl, she never let them see that she was upset. No one wanted to see it. She was already viewed as weaker as a woman, she didn't need to give them an evidence by letting her strong exterior break down for all to see. But fear was a clearly different subject. Fear was how society is held together. That and gold. She learnt that from her grandfather.

"No mother," she spoke quietly, her voice was soft and gentle. She was a musical girl. Her mother used to ask her to sing to her since she was just a child.

"Good. Lannisters are never afraid," her mother informed her, brushing through her daughter's black hair.  _But I am a stag_ , Lyla thought, but she kept that unsaid as well. "There is no reason to be."

Lyla remembered how she ended up with her mother brushing her hair. The two of them were seated together, in Lyla's room at the Inn. While Robert was spending the night at a brothel, the Queen decided to spend the time with her eldest daughter. She commented about how those handmaidens of hers knew nothing about how to take care of her daughter's hair. So she grabbed the golden comb and began to do it herself.

Lyla Baratheon. The trueborn daughter of King Robert Baratheon and Queen Cersei Lannister. She had her father's black hair, only hers was soft waves. She was graced with her mother's emerald green eyes though. When Cersei looked into those eyes,  _her_ eyes, she couldn't help but love her daughter. More like her than any of her other children. The eldest, who happened to be a daughter, constantly listening to the lessons they try to teach, and wanting what belongs to her. Ambitious from a young age. Cersei adored that.

Lyla was also beautiful. A true beauty. When the first princess born under the new dynasty, lords and ladies traveled from all over the realm to look at the babe. Even as a babe she was exceptionally beautiful. That beauty had only grown since then. As a grown woman, she had a shapely body, slender physique, plump lips, and a grace and regal nature. Though she was also compassionate and kind. Unlike her mother.

Lyla was everything Cersei was and better. It made Cersei envious of the young girl sometimes, and occasionally caused her to not care for the girl, but she was hers. The only hope she had that she could ever be more than horrible. Hope for her and Robert. As he loved he Lyla so intensely and unconditionally he didn't care that she was not a boy. She was all Cersei's happiness for the two years before she had Joffrey, born of her sin with her own brother. Lyla was pure however.

Cersei loved her children. All of them, unconditionally. It was her one redeeming quality.

"What if..." the princess began, she trailed off a bit, just thinking about it. "What if he does not like me?"

"Then he would have to be the biggest fool in all the seven kingdoms," Cersei replied, causing her daughter to giggle quietly. Cersei remembered having such wonders before she married Robert. Only she didn't have a mother. But Lyla did. "A young lord can only hope for a few thing. A young, pretty, and nobleborn wife. Who is more beautiful than my daughter? Who is more nobleborn than the princess? Sixteen is quite young."

She nodded, her mother spoke truthfully. Men would have fought and killed for her hand. She had offers from the Tyrells, Lannisters, Martells, and many other houses in Westeros, too many to count. But any suggestions were futile, as she was already betrothed to the eldest son of Eddard Stark the warden of the North.

Ever since her birth, her father knew that he wanted her to be married to his eldest friend's son. Ned meet the babe for the first time. With little black hairs, eyes bigger than her head, and covered in golden blankets. Though it only became official after the Greyjoy rebellion. The princess and queen were there to meet with the king. Eddard agreed to marriage when they both came of age. Cersei hated that they planned to take away her daughter, who was only eight years of age then, like her father forced her to be. To savages no less.

Lyla could clearly remembered that night. Putting her ear against the wall to hear her mother's wails at her father.  _"You will not take away my daughter, you pathetic man! She is mine! I will have you killed before I let you take her away from me, do you hear me? She is-"_ and then she heard a hard slap. Lyla knew her parents didn't love each other, and she had seen him strike Joffrey, but never anything like this. She went to her bed and lostened to the muffle screams. Her father stormed off to a brothel, and her mother came to her that night. She slept in her bed and held her.  _"I will not let them take you away, sweetling. I will sooner have them all killed. You are mine."_ The words didn't comfort Lyla, but Lyla's embrace comforted her mother greatly. The queen never got better sleep.

But the time had finally come. Lyla flowered already, she was at perfect age to begin having children and give her lord heirs, and with the death of Jon Arryn, they were already moving North. Upon the month after their arrival she will be married to the heir of Winterfell.

Robb Stark was his name. His name was all she knew. Everything else she heard were rumors and stories of the North and its people. They were stern, quick to anger, savages from what she had heard. Her father assured her that Ned Stark was not like that, but an honorable and kind man. She remembered that from when they last met. Though that didn't change that Joffrey told her outrageous stories about the Starks to scare the poor girl who was already forced to leave her home.

"Marriage is our duty as noblewomen, sweetling."

 _A duty that I do not wish to forgo,_ she pondered, looking down at her hands.  _You and father married out of duty. I do not wish to be like that with my husband. I want to be loved._

"An alliance between the North and the crown would be a union to bring four great houses together; Tully, Stark, Baratheon, Lannister. Do you understand?"

 _Is that what grandfather told you when we were at Casterly Rock?_ She questioned. They had immediately gone from Casterly Rock to King's Landing before quickly preparing to go on the kingsroad to Winterfell. She nodded her head, "yes, mother."

"Boys of that age, of that breed- they are all the same," Cersei informed her, she thought of her own wedding night and all the other encounters. She tapped her daughter's breast with a comb. "You will not give it to him. You are a princess, not a common whore."

Cersei finished combing her hair and placed it on the desk before starting to braid her hair so she may sleep well without it messing in her sleep. She caressed her head. She thought of how she would ever do this again once she married. She thought of how often Lord Stark traveled south, she doubted Robb and Lyla would come south to see her. She couldn't bare it.

"They will never be worthy of you," her mother continued, she frowned. She remembered the promise she made to Robert should he try to take her daughter away from her. "But after you give the Stark boy an heir, and your brother is king, you will come back to court, to your family, and be free of that wretched place."

_I will never be free. Never truly._

Her biggest fear was about having a child. What if she could not give the Stark boy an heir as a good wife should. Her grandmother on her father's side had three sons. Her grandmother on her mother's side had two sons, but died giving birth to her Uncle Tyrion. Her mother had two sons. She remembered hearing from her aunt Seylse had three stillborn boys, and Lady Arryn had multiple miscarriages and stillbirths that drove her mad. She feared the very ideas of what could happen to her, it made her place a hand on her stomach.

She did not favor Joffrey very highly either. He was cruel to his older sister. The worst of his torment came on her tenth name day. Her father gave her a fawn, to remind her of the Stormlands and her Baratheon heritage, she had named him Barnaby. A fortnight later her fawn was shot with her brother's crossbow. Robert hit him for that, he was forced to apologize to the crying girl. She loathed Joffrey. He would not make a good king

She finished the braid. She let go and squeezed her shoulders. "Get some rest, sweetling. We have a long journey still ahead of us."

"Good night, mother," she replied.

Cersei kissed the side of her head before leaving her daughter's room with a candlestick to guide her.

Lyla watched her leave until the door was closed. She crawled into her bed. She looked at the canopy and turned to her side. There was no one there in the large bed made for the princess. She always slept alone.  _Maybe this time next month, I will have a lord sleeping beside me._ She ignored the thought and turned to face the wall as her emerald eyes began to shut.

 

* * *

 

The next morning they continued to Winterfell. Lady Stark was kind enough to prepare the wedding feast and another feast for the King's arrival. She knew it couldn't have been easy to do all that on top of the duties as a lady, mother, and wife. Duties that will soon befall Lyla when she is made lady of Winterfell.

Myrcella, Tommen, and the queen were in a great wheel house during the journey. Originally the princess was to ride inside with them and their maids, but she insisted that she wanted to ride on horse. The king allowed it, so long as her sworn sword Ser Vorian Dayne rode with her. He stayed not too far or rode besides her. Jaime Lannister also remained close to his niece. She enjoyed riding a rather lot. She had been riding a horse since she was five years old when she rode the ponies in the stalls.

Only this time it was not as enjoyable, they were nearing Winterfell any day now. Ser Vorian, the Hound, Joffrey, and Lyla were ahead of the wheel house but not too far that the queen couldn't peak out to make sure her two eldest were safe. Joffrey was taking every last chance to insult his sister as with all the kingsguard around them, Ser Vorian could not do anything to defend her or her honor as he whispered horrible things to her.

"I wonder if he'll turn into a wolf when he takes your maidenhood, sweet sister," he sneered, he had been saying horrible things since he heard that his sister had flowered. Recently he had been saying very crude things about her maidenhood, but this time disgusted her the most. "They say the Northmen are skinchangers, that can turn into bears and wolves to fuck."

"Stop it," she spat.

"We'll see, when your first pup claws its way of you with fur and fangs. At least they'll know it's his."

She turned to him with fury in her eyes. "Speak to me again in that manner, and I will tell father."

"I will speak to you in any way I please, I am the crowned prince and soon you will be nothing more than a lady," he stated. He looked at her with the same smirk at his face that disgusted her. "And a wolves whore."

_And you will always be a cruel little shit._

She tightened her grip on the horse, Ser Vorian watched and then moved between her and the prince. He sent the blonde boy a glare. Just a single glare was enough to force Joffrey to leave the girl alone. He sighed loudly and moved forward with the Hound not too far behind. He sent the young princess a look of sincere look of condolences for her brother's taunts or simply because she was cursed with Joffrey as a brother. She smiled at Ser Vorian that rescued her from further suffering.

"That boy needs to learn to act more princely. He shouldn't try to upset the proud Starks. A comment like that would not reside well if one of Ned Stark's kids were born with  _wolf's blood_ ," Ser Vorian replied.

She knew not of the North or much of Starks. She had heard of Ned Stark from her father, but not much else.  _Wolf's blood? What is that? Joffrey couldn't have been correct that Starks and Northmen turn into beasts,_ she pondered. She raised and eyebrow to her guard.

"Wolf's blood is the term for the wildness that pumps through the veins of a Stark, wouldn't be uncommon for one or two children to gain it," he informed the girl, she nodded, not having read that in any book, luckily Ser Dayne could tell her all. He continued, "he is correct that Starks were believed to turn into their famous sigil direwolves. But they simply controlled their minds, they did not transform. They're called wargs. But those are just stories. No truth to them."

"Doesn't every story have a cornel of truth?" She asked.

"In this world..." he began, taking a long sigh while looking around the North. He was a dornishman, he was not used to being this cold. "...anything seems possible."

 _Dragons, wargs, white walkers, what else? It seems like the mystical seems to also be determined to make more interesting ways for people to kill one another._ She nodded. As cynical as her thoughts could be, she was starting to feel a bit more playful. She turned to Vorian with a playful grin gracing her face. He knew immediately that no good could follow that grin.

"How about a bit of a race to the castle?" Lyla suggested.

"Your mother would have my head should I race the princess before our arrival. It would be disgraceful."

"But-" before she could retort to his response, he went dashing in front of her. She wiped the pout of her face and went after him. "You're not playing fair!"

"Who said anything about fair?" He replied.

Ser Vorian had been acting as sworn sword to the princess since she was just a young girl during the Greyjoy Rebellion when the princess was only eight years old. It was his choice to follow hers. He admired the compassion, grace, and kindness of the princess. She was not like the Lannisters nor Baratheons. Though she was often naive to the world around her and when she wanted to her fury was as great as Robert or Stannis. He saved Joffrey from the princess.

Vorian Dayne was the younger brother of Ser Arthur Dayne. They urged him to serve the kingsguard, as he was said to be be a great swordsman just as his brother before him. As no one ever witnessed his skills, only his feats, it was widely debated if he was better, as good, or inferior to Arthur. He wielded abnormal sword as well as Dawn. Gifted to him at the age of sixteen by his sister and Lady of Starfall. It made him the new Sword of the Morning, but he hated that name as much as her Uncle Jaime disliked being called Kingslayer or Tyrion being called Imp. His sword was envied greatly. It made him worthy enough to serve any king or lands. But he chose the princess of the seven kingdoms instead.

 

* * *

 

The Stark and the rest of Winterfell were quickly preparing themselves to receive the princess and her family that day. Catelyn was both jogiful and a bit upset at the prospect of her eldest son's wedding. She would be a grandmother soon as well. Though along with the excitement came very much preparation for the special day. She was over seeing them preparing the hall for their feast to welcome the king and his family.

Men and women hurried about to prepare themselves to receive such royal visitors. None like Winterfell had ever received since Catelyn first came there. Just as she had when she first came from Riverrun to Winterfell, she knew that the princess was used to luxury and lively parties. She wanted all to go well during their stay.

"We need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion's chamber," Lady Catelyn instructed Maester Ludwin as she worried to the hall to make sure the arrangements were to her liking. This was still not enough time to truly be prepared. "I'm told he reads all night."

"I'm told he drinks all night," the maester retorted.

"How much could he possibly drink?" Catelyn questioned, too having heard of his perversions, but not quite believing the rumors could be possibly for one to drink all night. "A man of his...stature."

"We've pulled eight viles of ale from the cellar. Perhaps we'll find out."

"In any case," she continued, "candles."

In a different part of the castle Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, and Jon Snow also had the royal family and their arrival on their mind. They were getting themselves properly groomed. Shaved down and their haircut. Of course this sat worst of Jon Snow who already knew a bastard was most likely not going to be allowed near such nobility. That and he loved his hair. Robb was going first and was having what stubble he had shaved. He didn't complain, just sat down and allowed the man to work.

He crossed his arms and thought about his situation. In the next month he would be wed to the princess. She was foretold to be a great beauty. That flowers bloomed to please the princess of summer. She had been crowned the Queen of love and beauty five times already. It didn't matter how beautiful she was, he didn't care as he would spend the rest of his life with this woman he didn't know. She could be a bitch. Most likely was. She was a Lannister after all. He thought of what she could like, coming from two houses defined by their traits, such as dark hair and rage or golden manes and cunningness.

Jon however found Robb's inner struggles of whether he wants to marry the beautiful princess were pathetic. He however was not happy he too had to undergo the shaving to please a woman he would probably never know or disgust despite his appearance simply for being a bastard.

"Why's you mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the king?" Jon asked.

"I bet it's for the queen," Theon pointed out, "I hear she's a sleepative minx."

"I hear the prince is a right royal prick," Robb spat, already not having much love for his future brother by law. He hadn't even met him.

"Think about all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick," Theon crudely mentioned.

Rob thought to himself about southern girls. He knew they were somehow different from northern girls in a way he was yet to understand. Maybe they were more lean, less hair to them, and twice as obedient and fragile. Then the man tapped his shoulder, he stood up and wiped his freshly shaved face.

"Go on, Tommy, sheer him good," Robb said, slapping Jon's arm as the boy sat down to have him wild black hair finally tamed. For the time be. "He's never met a girl he liked better than his own hair." He glared at his half-brother as he and Theon laughed to themselves.

Tommy ran his hands though Jon Snow's hair before grabbing their sheers. He winced as he trimmed his hair.

"You'll have a southern bride soon enough," Jon reminded him, to end the snickering.

"The princess," Theon smirked. He had seen the princess once. It was at a small court in the Westerlands when he was taken hostage by the Starks and Baratheons once the rebellion had failed. He recalled her as being very pretty, but he couldn't remember her in many details. She was regarded as still never beautiful.

Robb didn't know what to say about his betrothal that he hadn't already expressed thousands of times before. His betrothal to the princess was talked about since he was a babe, and made official announcement when he was but the age of nine. Now he was a lad of seventeen who did not have marriage on his mind. Let alone marriage to a stranger from a different culture and even a different religion. Their wedding would be in favor of his father's Old Gods than the King's Faith of the Seven.

"I hear she's just as much as an ice queen as the queen, only her legs don't open as easily," Theon continued.

"Where do you heard these things?" Robb asked, curious how he already had so many crude interpretations of the royal family.

Jon didn't want to speak of crude things any longer, it made him rather uncomfortable. "I hear her sworn sword is the Sword of the Morning, Ser Vorian Dayne."

Robb nodded. "Father says it's so, we'll be seeing a sword of legend, lads."

"And all it cost is your freedom," Theon snickered.

Robb sighed. He would lose his freedom in some respects. But he didn't care. He didn't live his life like Theon, so his lifestyle would not alter too much. He however couldn't lie about not wanting to be with the princess. At least he was gifted with the chance to meet her before they would be married to one another in the godswood. Before he would share her bed. He tried to imagine her as Theon so vividly described.

"A princess will make a fine wife. You'll probably marry Sansa, Theon. That can't truly be better."

Theon agreed that he would probably marry Sansa, he didn't enjoy the prospect of marrying the stuck up Sansa who dreamt of princes or knights, courtly love. She didn't want to marry Theon. But this would truly make him the son of Ned Stark in some respects.

The princess could make a good wife. And soon he would learn about her soon.

Jon looked up at the two who would each have many options for marriage. He never thought he would be married one day. Couldn't see it happening.


	2. Winter Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal party finally arrives in Winterfell, and the two betrothed finally meet.

The day finally came. The king would be arriving. Theon, Jon, and Robb walked together talking about something trying to devoid attention from the king's arrival. Sansa was dressed and thinking of the prince and the princess she already admired. Arya was excited to see the sword made from a star, the imp, and the knights. Rickon was running about freely as it seemed he was hardly watched.

Bran was the most excited as he had been perched up a wall to watch the King and the men he brought and that would be coming for the wedding. The northern lords would be arriving soon as well. But this was something the young boy hadn't seen. There were so many and they were coming up so close. He couldn't help gasp in amazement. He quickly jumped ledge to ledge, then ran down the narrow rock, continued jumping until he jumped off and held onto a rock. He held on to different rocks until he got the lower wall.

Catelyn was over worked, planning a wedding worthy of the princess and the royal family. Along with that, she was worried that with the death of Jon Arryn, and their changed decision have the wedding in Winterfell's godswood instead of the Great Septon in King's Landing.

She heard Summer whimper, which meant that she had found her son.

"Dogs but they grow fast," she commented, seeing just how big the direwolf was after such little time.

She looked up and noticed that Bran was climbing down the wall. This wasn't the first time she had caught him climbing the castle walls. And unfortunately it wouldn't be the last time he would catch him.

"Brandon!"

He smiled excitedly. "I saw the king! He's got hundreds of people!" This would be the first time he had been to a wedding, he was very interested.

"How many times have I told you, no climbing."

"But he's coming right now," Bran whined. "Down our road."

He finally got onto the ground in front of his mother. She leant down to meet his eyes. "I want you to promise me. No more climbing."

He looked down nervously at his feet before then at his mother's stern face. "I promise."

She stood straight up. "You know what?" She asked.

"What?"

"You always look at your feet before you lie," she explained. He smiled at her. "Run and find your father. Tell him the king is close." The boy excitedly ran off, Summer following in suit.

Arya started passed the crowds as the knights started to approach them. She climbed up a carriage to see. She sat and watched as men dressed in metal helmets road passed on horses, waving the Baratheon banner and that of the Baratheon-Lannister combined sigil. She watched as the golden haired prince rode pass with a man in a dog helmet behind him. She was amazed.

The Starks stood together in a line to greet the king and his family upon their arrival. Bran, Sansa, Robb, Ned, Catelyn, and Rickon. Behind them was the bastard Jon Snow and their ward Theon Greyjoy. Though it didn't take more than a second to notice that someone was missing from the Stark house.

"Where's Arya?" Catelyn asked. She looked around worriedly. They were all supposed to be there together to receive the king. She didn't want to insult him after he honored their family by offering his daughter. She looked at her eldest daughter. "Sansa where's your sister."

"I don't know," she mumbled in response. She just wanted to see the princess. She had always dreamt of being a princess and now she would have the chance to meet one. And she would see the prince. A blonde prince. It was like one of her songs and stories.

The party made their way closer into the crowd. They looked at Arya started to run towards them, she was a fast girl preparing to greet the king. "He, hey, hey," Ned stopped her in her tracks by grabbing her arm, noticing the weird helmet on her head. Robb looked down and fondly smiled at his sister. "You doing with that on?" He removed the helmet from her head. Jon Snow could help but quietly chuckle. "Go on," he patted her to go into her place, giving her helmet backwards.

"Move!" She grumbled, shoving Bran.

They all looked forward anxiously awaiting the arrival of king. None more than Robb, he wanted to get to know his bride before their wedding the following night.

Soon the kingsguard came in first, followed by the crowned Prince Joffrey, younger brother to the princess Lyla. Sansa stared at the boy that would become Robb's brother-in-law. She had a sly smile on her face at the sight of the prince. Robb looked over at his sister, seeing how she smiled like that. The prince stared at the girl with fiery hair. Robb then looked at the prince. And he didn't like what he saw, that smirk at that golden boys face. He hoped his bride wasn't like that.

A large red carriage came by, with Lannister flags waving. Which was odd because the Baratheon's were the crowned family, and the crowned children were all Baratheons. It stopped halfway, just enough space to allow more kingsguard to come forward, only to show the king emigre. The wheel house continued and then was opened for the ladies to exit and stand besides the kingsguard watching the royal family.

Ned hadn't seen his old friend in nine years, and he had changed a lot from the man that he remembered. His stomach was very large, his face was more stern and red, while his hair was turning gray.

As the king rode forward, everyone around him knelt down before their king. He stopped his horse and watched as every last person got onto their knees. He waited for his daughter to exit the wheelhouse as well. She didn't take too long once the maidens had exited. She was the first of the four inside to come out. Some looked up an inch just to see the beauty who lived up to the stories. She was gorgeous with black hair, emerald eyes, and fair complexion. She stood in front of her sworn sword. He looked forward at the Starks. The family he would be giving his princess to.

A man came over to take the horse, while another brought a box to help the man get down from the stallion. Ned looked up for a moment. He motioned for his prize daughter who walked over to him. He took her hand and guided her in front of her subjects.

The king walked towards the Starks with great haste. He looked down at his friend who was once his equal, but now bowed down to him as his superior. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. These two would share a grandchild together in little time. He lifted his fingers to have the man stand up.

Ned complied and rose to his feet. With Ned Stark, everyone else soon came to their feet as well.

Robb couldn't take his eyes off the princess. She was more beautiful than the stories did her justice. Her cate like eyes, slender frame, cheekbones, and kind smile. She wasn't at all like her brother, the prince. He was relieved he had such a treasure. She couldn't take her eyes off the Stark either. He was very handsome. Her brother's stories faded from her mind.

"Your grace," Ned bowed his head in respect.

Robert looked confused at his old friend. There was a long silence where absolutely nothing was said.

Then Robert finally said something. "You've got fat."

Once again there was silence until Ned looked down at his friend's enormous stomach. Then the two old friends proceeded to laugh and hug each other.

"Cat!" He exclaimed happily, hugging the woman. He rubbed the top of Rickon's head.

"Nine years. Why haven't I've seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the north for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours," Ned responded.

"While now we're here for a wedding. Been waiting a long time for this one." Robert hit the back of his daughter playfully, forcing her to give a nervous and large smile to the Stark family.

"My lords, my ladies," she curtsied.

"It's an honor princess," Robb replied. She held out her hand, he took it and placed a kiss on her gentle hand. She smiled at the heir to this magnificent castle.

"See, a perfect match," Robert commented. "She's read all about your old gods and first men."

Ned and Robb both smiled at that curtsy of the princess to take an interest in their culture. So they looked at the carriage where the seven year old Tommen, twelve year old Myrcella, and the Queen Cersei Lannister had just walked out of. Though there was no sixteen year old princess that he would marry. Both children were golden haired just like the other prince. Just like their mother.

Arya turned to her elder sister. "Where's the Imp?"

"Will you shut up?!" Sansa chastised.

Robert looked over at the other children. "Well have we here?" He approached the boy. Dark brown curls with his mother's Tully blue eyes. He was a tall and handsome lad. He was already taken aback by the princess. "You must be Robb." The men shook hands as a show of good faith. "You'll make a fine husband."

He walked over and looked at the lovely Sansa. "My, you're a pretty one," he complimented, earning a small grin from the girl. He bent down just a bit to look closer at Arya. "Your name is?" He asked.

"Arya," she simply responded.

"Oh," he continued. He looked at Bran. "Show us your muscles," he requested. Bran moved his arm up, and flexed the arm. The older man laughed in response. "You'll be a solider," he commented.

Arya looked over at a blonde knight. "That's Jaime Lannister, the queen's twin brother."

"Would you please shut up?" Sansa begged, as the beautiful queen made her way over to them slowly.

Cersei walked over to the family while looking around. This place was nothing compared to King's Landing, and she would never imagine a princess could settle for some place like this. Sure enough the lord she would marry is very young and handsome. But if she had learnt anything from her marriage with Robert, was that after marriage, not all men stayed very attractive once taking a wife. Everyone dressed in such dark colors and it was such a gloom looking place, she already couldn't stand it.

She gave a false smile as she held her hand out for Ned to kiss it. Unlike when Rob kissed her daughter's hand as a sign of affection to his bride, this was Cersei's way of reminding him that they were not friends. She already resented the man for taking Lyla from her. He looked at her in somewhat surprise before preforming the task she wanted. "My queen."

"My queen," Catelyn bowed. She glared at the woman. Two daughter and three sons, and now she would be taking her daughter from her as well.

Lyla looked at Joffrey who was not pleased at how handsome and gentlemen like her intended was. She gave him a very satisfied glare. She turned to Robb once again. He could be the most honorable and handsome man in all of seven kingdoms and it wouldn't change that she didn't love him.

Her thoughts were cut short when her father said something he shouldn't have.

"Take me to your crypt," Robert stated, taking the attention away from Cersei to another. "I want to pay my respects."

Lyla knew exactly what that meant. She had heard whispers of her. She heard of her and her father. Lyanna Stark, of course that's where he's going, the princess thought, looking at her mother who kept a strong face on every when she was clearly uncomfortable with him bringing up his lost love. She never showed how it hurt her.

"We've been riding for a month, my love. We have a wedding to plan. Surely the dead can wait."

He didn't even give her a second glance nor thought. He turned to his friend. "Ned." Then he walked away, leaving his wife and daughter alone.

Lyla looked at her mother, she felt bad. Ned looked at the queen who never let her emotions slide. He walked off with Robert as he was the king.

Catelyn looked at the princess. She looked very kind and regal. She didn't let her emotions slide either, she was strong like her mother. She could do well in the North. She would be proud to have her son marry the princess. Lyla gave the lady a smile to make the silence less uncomfortable for all involved.

Arya turned to Sansa again, still impatient. "Where's the Imp?" He doesn't like being called that.

Cersei glared at the youngest Stark girl. She linked her arms with her daughter and took her away from the Starks. She only had so much time left with her daughter. Soon she would return to the court, but a year was still a very long time. Robb didn't want her to be taken away, he wished to speak with her.

She took the princess to her guard, the Hound, Joffrey, and Jaime. She was very impatient and not very happy about the whole issue of Lyanna. It was bad enough he named her daughter after the woman.

"Where is he?" She asked Jaime. "Go and find him at least."

The princess turned back around at Robb as the crowd started to disburse with the lord and king gone. He was with two other boys his age. She smiled at him once again and he returned it. She felt her chest burn.

"The marriage will happen in a fortnight, I hope you are all prepared for that," Cersei commented to Catelyn, who had all prepared for the earlier date. Cersei was purposely trying to inconvenience them. "I brought a septon from the Riverlands. He will preform it in your godswood. A Tully should be familiar with the faith." She had completely changed how it should have been done. But she always got her way.

"I'm tired mother, may I retire to my room?" She questioned, feeling tried.

"Of course, sweetling."

She walked away with Ser Vorian looking at the castle, her new home. It was very different from the Red Keep. She kind liked that it was so different.


	3. The Banquet Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To honor the royal family, a banquet is thrown in their honor. Ser Vorian whispers secrets in his princesses ears about the Stark men.

"From what I have learnt, Robb is his father's son, very honorable, almost to a fault. His sister Sansa is the one with her mother's red locks, she loves princesses, and ladylike activities. His youngest sister Arya is the opposite and has the wolf's blood I explained earlier. Brandon, or Bran, is the second son, he most likely will not be present at the feast. Rickon, the youngest, will not be. There is the ironborn, Theon Greyjoy. And Ned Stark has his bastard Jon Snow, he will not be there."

_Of course mother wouldn't want to see a bastard. She hates them. Never understood why. I thought her hate was only for those fathered by my father, I suppose that is not true._

She recalled when she was ten years old, her father wanted to bring his bastard daughter from the Vale to court. Her name was Mya Stone. The idea, the very suggestion had her mother outraged. It was then when the girl clearly learnt the difference between trueborn and bastards. She didn't like the treatment of Mya, though she would see the pain it caused her mother to have Mya around her daughter who was of truebirth. It spurned her so much. She banned her after a day from the Crownlands.

A bastard might insult her. But Robert was in no place to pass judgment for one having bastard when he had fathered dozens. Her mother would also not care what Ned Stark did, she most likely to just find it funny Ned Stark wasn't as honorable as he said he was.

 _Still. Shouldn't a brother be at another's only wedding. I suppose if he isn't going to be there. Oh well._  The wedding might not take place after mother practically changed everything for the Starks last minute. Though they can never express this grief, she was the queen and she would do as she pleased.

"I didn't know mother asked for a septon," Lyla said.

"You know your mother," Vorian started, thinking of the appropriate way to speak of the woman in front of her daughter and her handmaidens. Vorian had a few colorful ideas about the queen. He was not very fond of Cersei, Robert, Jaime, or Joffrey. "She is upset Enough Robert forced her to travel all the way to the north instead of having the Stark journey south to King's Landing instead. She already hates it here. And in a matter of days they are taking her daughter away from her. I suppose she is trying to make issues for the family that takes you from her."

"Well, should Ned Stark accepts the position of the new hand of the king, we'll be taking away a husband and a father from the Starks," she retorted.

"Do you think that matters to your mother?"

"No," she responded.

"Finished princess," one of her handmaidens, Alla, told her, as they backed away for the girl to stand up.

She heard dressing in the north was less about showmanship, as she used to wear extravagant clothing like they did in King's Landing or Highgarden. Nevertheless, her mother decided they would both be dressed in fine dresses to remind them all that they were nobility. Cersei would most likely be proudly in red and gold to show her Lannister pride. Her daughter was also in a red dress with long red sleeves and golden trim. On her graceful neck rested a necklace with a lion on it. Her hair was tried back and flowing on each shoulder, with a few curled traces framing her face.

She smiled at her appearance. She had been told she looked good in red, she should probably wear something of her own house, but her mother chose this. Once she was married, she would only wear blue, black, and grey. She would most likely never wear the colorful gowns of yellow, orange, and pink that she dressed in King's Landing. She ran her fingers through her curled waves. She then adjusted her necklace that a gift from her mother. There were only three necklaces like that, one Cersei and one for each of her daughter's.

She thought of Robb Stark then. He would be at the feast. Lyla wanted the chance to get to know him. Their first meeting couldn't have left much of an impression. Joffrey took ever chance after that meeting to terrorize her once again. _"He'll still change, maybe rip off and eat your flesh when he gets bored of you."_ She knew it was all nonsense. He wouldn't turn into a wolf on their wedding night. He wouldn't hurt her. Their babe wouldn't crawl out of her. Joffrey was just trying to scare her, but she would never give him the benefit of seeing her scared.

"Are you ready to go, princess?"

"Huh?" She snapped out of her daze. She turned to Vorian who was waiting for her response. "Yes."

"Then let's go join your family."

"Let's," she agreed. Only for a bit more than a fortnight, then they will return to King's Landing. Mother will be devastated. Tommen and Myrcella will probably cry. Father will be a bit upset. Joffrey couldn't be more pleased.

She walked with Vorian. He was her friend as well as her guard. She knew it must have seemed strange, but it was something that she couldn't have helped. She didn't treat Ser Vorian the way that Joffrey treated Sandor Clegane as a pet rather than a man who swore to protect him. Lyla knew that the Hound did not like Joffrey, and only served him because he had to. Vorian on the other hand chose to serve her.

He told her great stories of the past, or of places she has never been. He told her about many things about those who they meet and places they go. When she went to Summerhal, he told her about the tragedy of Summerhal. He told her about the Harrenhal. He told her all about all the stories behind house Dayne. They entertained her, and Ser Vorian liked to see her smile, so he would tell every story to make her happy.

He walked in front of her as he took her down to where the feast would be held. She kept her head down. She could feel more eyes on her the closer they got. The dark velvet dress caught their eyes to the princess. She simply wished to fade away from their eyes. She always had eyes on her. She liked to be around the common people and they adored her. But the northerners were obviously judging her as she walked.

She reached the feast, it was more lively than she had expected. There were people cheering loudly and goofing with one another. She smiled to herself at the gestures. She saw her mother at the head of the table with her hair up and her crown. Her father was with many women. She felt pity for her mother, always watching him and his infidelity. Lyla looked away from it and to Ser Vorian who led her to her mother's table.

Cersei took a sip of her wine as she looked away from her husband kissing another woman. Better her than Cersei. Kissing him disgusted her. She looked up at their child together who approached their table. She smiled widely at the view of her daughter in Lannister red and gold. Even with black hair, she was Cersei's daughter.

"Hello, mother," she greeted, having not seen her since earlier when she excused herself to her chambers. She turned to the Tully haired woman besides her. She bowed her head to the lady of Winterfell. "My lady."

"Princess," she bowed in return. "You look absolutely lovely in your dress."

"Thank you," Lyla responded.

"Sit, sweetling, you must be hungry," Cersei concluded, looking at the slender girl. She didn't appreciate Catelyn taking an interest in her daughter. Lyla could see that clearly on her face. "There is space on Joffrey's bench. Ser Vorian, take her to seat with her brother."

"Of course, your grace," Ser Vorian responded, you could hear his pure hatred of the woman that he never tried to hide very much. He despised all Lannisters. With the exception of Lyla.

She looked over to Joffrey's bench and noticed there wasn't much room, there wasn't any actually. She turned back to her mother. "Mother, there is no room."

"They will make room for their princess," Cersei stated, plainly and coldly. She was the princess and would one day be the Lady of Winterfell. She deserved better treatment than what they gave her. Cersei would have everyone on the bench executed if it pleased her. She could and it would not be out of character for her to do so. Even Lyla knew this.

"There is room with Robb and Theon," Catelyn suggested, that idea actually pleased Lyla quite a bit. She smiled kindly at the princess. "I am sure my son would like to get to know his bride."

 _As I want to know my groom_ , Lyla thought.

Sure enough, Cersei shut down the very idea before anyone could make it happen. "Lyla doesn't want to sit with the boys all night. The talk of men is not for the ears of a noblewoman. She will be fine sitting besides her brother. Wouldn't you, Lyla?" She turned the attention to her poor daughter who did not wish to upset Lady Stark nor her mother. Now she wished she stayed in her chambers.

 _I don't want to sit with Joffrey, the little shit. I can't tell mother that, he's her golden boy and the future king. May the mother have mercy._  She gave them a smile and then turned her head to notice that Sansa Stark was looking at her. The girl was pretty, very pretty. She favored her mother more than Lord Stark. She gave the princess a nervous smile. She smiled in return.  _Vorian mentioned that her father was planning on adding a possible marriage between Joffrey and Ned's eldest daughter to sweeten the deal. She seems so lovely. The poor girl could end up with Joffrey. Now I pray her father declines the offer._

There was an empty seat besides Sansa Stark, and if she wished to learn about her groom, she was sure Sansa would be able to teach her all she wished to learn. She turned back to her mother. "Could I sit with Sansa?"

Catelyn looked over at her daughter who spent a fortnight speaking about the princess. How she heard her green eyes were like a cats, that animals loved her, her voice was so soft and harmonic that birds chirped to it, and that she was so beautiful that men fought for her hand. Catelyn was sure not all of those things were true, but she was sure that this was something Sansa would love. "Of course, princess."

"Go ahead, sweetling. Enjoy yourself, this is a feast in your father's honor," Cersei dismissed her.

She curtsied and walked away.

Catelyn leaned over to Cersei. "Your daughter is a beauty, as much as the songs."

Cersei smiled fondly. Her daughter was a beauty, not because of Robert, because of her. They sang songs about her beautiful girl. "She is." She watched as she walked over and sat besides Sansa and the two girls soon started to talk to each other.

"Is this your first time in the north, your grace?" Catelyn asked, feeling that tensions would raise again.

"Yes," she answered, "lovely country." She couldn't have made it more obvious she was lying.

Cersei smiled fondly at how Sansa and her daughter were already speaking to one another like sisters. Giggling and talking about each other's dresses. It reminded her of how close her daughters were, and how they would be torn apart. Luckily, should that happen, they would be leaving with their daughter so she can know what it is like to lose your child to marriage.

"I'm sure it's very grim after King's Landing," Cat continued, noticing how well the princess was already adapting.

Lyla noticed her mother looking at them, she knew this was about Sansa and Joffrey. She pulled the red haired girl's arm and instructed her that the queen wanted to speak with her. Sansa personally admired the queen and stood up.

"I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here for the first time," Cat mentioned, clearly talking about how Lyla was going to have to be used to the northern way of life. This did not please Cersei to think of leaving her daughter.

Luckily Sansa walked over in time to end the conversation.

"Hello, little dove," Cersei greeted the lady. Sansa remained quiet as she looked at the queen, with a large smile that never faded. "But you are a beauty. How old are you?"

"Thirteen, your grace," Sansa replied happily. The prince was almost fifteen, she wanted to show she was not too young to marry him one day.

"You're tall," she continued, she was taller than her daughter's already. "Still growing?"

"I think so, your grace."

"And have you bled yet?"

There was a long silence between all the women, Sansa looked at her mother who looked at her daughter in response to be truthful. Sansa felt as if she had disappointed the queen in some way. She responded much grimmer than the others.

"No, your grace."

Lyla flowered when she was thirteen. She screamed as she didn't understand why there was so much blood. It got all over her bed, her hands, her legs. Once they got her cleaned up, her mother explained it all to her. About childbirth, pregnancy, and that it meant she could marry Robb Stark soon. Lyla was no excited as the idea of giving birth scared her. But Cersei was joyous of the flowering, it gave her a chance to bond with her daughter in a way she never could, since Tyrion killed her mother during labor.

She changed the subject for the sake of the girl who felt embarrassed by it. "And your dress, did you make it?" Sansa nodded very proudly now. Cersei smiled at the girl, "such a talent. You must make something for me."

Sansa nodded to the request and walked away to her table with the princess. Lyla had her eyes off the women who were talking and instead looking at Robb who was greeting his uncle Benjen. He was handsome, but she was yet to have a formal conversation with the man she was to be wed to. Cersei noticed Lyla's wondering eye.

"We'll share a grandchild one day," Cersei stated, catching Catelyn off guard.

She nodded. "I suppose so."

"I hear that we might share one from your daughter as well," Cersei added, reminding her that Ned might take her daughter away from her.

"I hear the same."

"Your daughter will do well in the capital." Cersei turned and looked at the two girls. "Such a beauty shouldn't stay hidden up here forever." Catelyn looked at the queen and knew she wasn't talking about Sansa.

Sansa sat besides the princess. She couldn't believe the luck she had been blessed with. She was meeting a true princess, one she had only heard descriptions of from her father. Her beautiful Lannister necklace around her elegant neck. She was a lioness, not a stag like the drunk old king. She was graceful and kind. Her beauty was enough to charm and her voice was soft and gentle to match. She was very talented apparently. She was telling Sansa of the capital that she might call home one day.

"Mother wanted you and your family to travel to King's Landing so that we might hold the wedding in the Great Sept of Baelor. It is a magnificent building rich with history. Targaryen. Most are buried within the crypts of the sept. Only royalty. That's where my mother married my father. She wanted me to be wed there since I am princess. I suppose the godswoods of better to stay true to your family's faith," Lyla spoke in between sips. She was enjoying the music and the food very much. Sansa's curiosity was very fun. As she had previously asked many questions of Winterfell.

"Great Sept of Baelor," Sansa repeated.

"Sansa look," Jeyne Poole, the daughter of a steward, pointed at Joffrey who was looking at the princess and her new companions.

 _What does the little shit want now?_  She glared. She kept her face hidden however from the people who walked by, as she would not want them to see her great distaste for the crowned prince. He would be leaving soon enough, she didn't want to make a bad impression. However she noticed he wasn't looking at his elder sister, instead his eyes were on the Stark besides him. She smiled at him and he returned it with a princely grin.

 _Seven hells?! I've never seen Joff intentionally be kind. What is he planning? He's not clever, so probably something idiotic._ She cringed at her brother and then turned to the practically swooning Sansa Stark who seemed already smitten with the prince beyond Lyla's comprehension.

"He's so handsome," she muttered.

"I suppose," Lyla concluded, not wishing to speak of her brother Joffrey. She had nothing she could say about him that was no condescending or wasn't a lie.

Just then, Arya flung a spoon of food to Sansa's face.

"ARYA!" She screamed, standing up. A crowd of people erupted into laughter, including the princess and Joffrey. She felt so embarrassed that their two important guests who she wanted to impress where laughing at her. She started to wipe her face. "It's not funny!"

Arya snickered at her older sister, until Catelyn instructed Robb to take his sister out of the hall as this was making a scene in front of their royal guests. He stopped laughing and stood up to take away his sister.

"Come on, time for bed," he said, picking up Arya and walking her out.

Lyla watched as Arya was taken away by Robb. She got up from her seat and turned back to Jeyne and Sansa to excuse herself. "Pardon me." With that she started to walk away in order to follow Robb. She wanted to get to know her intended, she also did not want to talk about the ever horrible Joffrey who seemed to lurk over her very existence.

Ser Vorian stopped her. "Princess, I think you should go to sleep. It's gotten late."

"I am alright, Ser Vorian," she excused him.

"Princess," he persisted.

She turned around and noticed her father kissing another woman that was not her mother. The party was over. He was drunk enough, would take this woman to bed, her mother would sleep alone, and tension would follow. She followed in the steps of Arya and decided to listen to Ser Vorian and proceed to her room. She watched as Robb Stark was out of view. She nodded to her guard and followed him as they left in a different direction to her room.

She passed by Sansa and Jeyne once again. She passed by Joffrey and the Hound, who was not happy to be in the North. In fact she couldn't remember the last time she had seen Sandor happy. She came to see her uncle Jaime finish his conversation with Ned Stark, which sent him her way. He grabbed her arms and looked down happily upon his niece with a smile.

"Leaving so soon, Lyla?" Jaime asked.

"I'm afraid so," she responded.

"The princess needs her rest, Ser." Jaime and Vorian were not very warm towards each other. But Jaime simply smiled at the dornishman.

"Get sleep, Lyla," he kissed the top of her head and let her continue to go to her chambers. He was more affectionate towards her as there was no reason anyone would suspect he was her father like they would with Cersei's blonde haired children.

"Goodnight, uncle Jaime," she said, walking away.

As they walked away Vorian glared at Ned Stark. They both almost stopped walking as they intensely stared at each other, before he continued to walk behind the princess who watched the whole exchange. It was odd.

"Ser Vorian, what was that?" She asked.

"I don't care for the Warden of the North, princess."

"Why? I hear he is the most honorable man in all the seven kingdoms," she replied.

"No man can be that honorable and true."

I fear so. She looked back at Ned Stark, she knew that he killed Ser Arthur Dayne in an epic battle. That was why he was not fond of the man, but that was war. If every man in war was still upset about every man he killed than they would babble on forever. But she had never heard that Ned Stark lacked any honor. Although how honorable can a man with a bastard be.

They finally exited the feast and Vorian left her in her room. She changed from her red gown and safely placed down her Lion necklace. She crawled into her bed and looked at the space besides her. Empty. She closed her eyes and sighed. Winterfell was very quiet and cold, and it would only grow more cold as winter drew nearer. She moved and faced the wall.


	4. Ours Is The Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While preforming needle-work, Lyla bonds with Arya and watches the boys in the training yard.

The one thing she did not miss growing up was her lessons with the Septa. She was very good at needlework, she rather enjoyed it. Her mother always told her that she didn't have to worry herself with the work of women who weren't blessed with her daughter's cunningness and sharp wits. Nevertheless, she actually started to like the lessons. She was good at it, as a princess should be. It was a quality that would make her a good wife, they told her.

Today she was to attend a needlework with Sansa, Arya, the daughter of the Steward Jeyne, the daughter of the Master-at-Arms Beth, and Myrcella. The princess was twelve years old and looked like a copy of her mother. Everyone said that Lyla would be her mother if she had golden hair, Myrcella looked like a smaller version of their mother. She was also very good at needlework as well. So when the princesses arrived they were showered in many compliments for their impressive work.

Sansa was doing a very fine job, but the younger Arya was having a very hard time. Lyla looked at the girl and noticed that she was struggling, she decided to assist her. It was simply awful, but she wanted to spare the girl's feelings as she would be her goodsister once she married Robb soon.

"Let me see," she stated, looking over the bad work that was done. She remembered being just as bad when she was a young girl. "They're too far apart. That's all. Anyone can learn to sew, it just takes practice, just as everything else does."

"Arya never practices her needlework," Jeyne muttered slyly, while Sansa tried not to smile at the remark.

"Yes, I do," she insisted, getting a bit red faced.

Sansa spoke up, "you always leave halfway through our lessons-"

"Well, they're boring," Arya bursted. Lyla looked amused by the small outburst by the little girl.  _She has the wolf's blood that Vorian spoke of in spades._

The bickering soon finished.

"The prince said he'd like to marry Sansa if he could, not you," Jeyne told Arya snidely. Lyla raised an eyebrow as she had not heard that the two had ever spoken to one another before.  _That doesn't sound like something Joff would say. He was never interested in marriage or girl's at all._

"I don't want to marry him," Arya said in a fit of rage, "he looks like a girl, Jon says so."

The princess almost broke out into hysterical laughter, but instead covered her mouth and chuckled silently to herself. She knew it wasn't the way that a princess should behave, and that her mother would scold her for, but she had never heard something so hilarious. Joffrey wasn't particularly the view of masculinity like her Uncle Jaime, or dark and handsome like Robb. He kind of looked like a woman in the right light.

Sansa could not believe that her sister would scream out something that she viewed as incorrect and embarrass her in front of the princesses, and possibly ruin her chance to be betrothed to a prince and one day be the queen when Robert passed. She was more embarrassed than when Arya flung food at her head. "Arya! How could you say that— especially in front of the princesses."

"Sorry," Arya muttered, just enough for Lyla to hear.

"Do not let Joffrey hear you speak that way. Ours is fury," she stated laughing. She knew Joffrey wasn't much of a Baratheon, he wasn't built like a Baratheon, he didn't behave a Baratheon, except his outbursts of anger. Though even the princess could be a force to be reckoned with when she was fed up enough. The Septa turned to her. "He is such a gallant prince. So handsome. It would be an honor for any woman to be his queen when he comes of age."

_May the mother's mercy be granted to the poor soul cursed with Joffrey as a betrothed. He treats me, his older sister, harshly, I couldn't imagine how he would treat his intended._

The Septa walked over and noticed the work that had been done by the young lady. "Arya, why aren't you at work?"

Lyla knew she would be in trouble, she decided to help take some of the attention off of the poor girl. "I was assisting her with her stitches, Septa."

"Arya you should be most grateful for the princess's assistance," the Septa informed her.

The girl was fed up with everyone telling her what she should be doing and what she is doing wrong. She didn't need a princess to start acting like she was so much better than her in every way. She was just another Sansa and she didn't want that. She could barely stand the one she had been forsaken with. Now Robb would be marrying her, she wouldn't be able to avoid her.

Arya stood up, dropping the work to the floor. The Septa could not believe what happened, Arya always misbehaved, but she was acting ill-mannered in front of the princesses. "Arya, sit down immediately." Instead the girl walked away from the class. Leaving Myrcella confused as she believed it was all in good taste, Jeyne smirked at her dismay, and Sansa remained composed. Lyla watched and remembered she was once like her.

"Excuse me, Septa. I think I need some fresh air, Arya will escort me," and with that excuse, the princess exited the room and hurried after the girl.

Vorian wasn't outside waiting for her as usual, it seems he has wondered off somewhere. She didn't spend her time thinking of where he could have gone, as it didn't matter at the moment very much. There was something more important than that. She wanted to make amends with the girl, as she didn't want her intended's sister to despise her for something such as needlework.

Arya turned to her. Her eyes had dried but her face was still red however. "You didn't have to do that." She wiped her face and sniffled her nose. "I don't need—"

"A princess pitying you?" Lyla asked. "I don't pity you. I pity those girls inside who believe that the single most important thing is to sit around and cluck like hens."

Arya laughed at the statement. She looked down at the ground. "Sewing is useless."

Lyla shook her head. "That is not true. The words of your house are  _winter is coming,_ and when it arrives it will be the job of the women all who know how to work a needle to make the cloaks and the clothing for when the cold covers all of the land. Covered in frost, those who cannot find warmth will die. Don't you believe that being a lady blessed with such opportunities to learn to sow, you should be a bit more grateful?"

She huffed, obviously the little girl seemed that she didn't have a retort. She processed the answer that was given, she seemed as if she understood but was no pleased with the fact that she should be grateful for something she dislikes so much. The princess smiled and then looks down at the callused hands of the lady.  _More so than any lady should have._

"So what do you enjoy doing?" Lyla asked.

"I practice sparring with wooden swords with Bran. I'm good with a bow if they let me. And I have been told I am good at riding," she perked up while speaking, especially about the last part.

"I have been told I am good rider as well," Lyla gleamed. "Maybe some time we can take a ride through the wolfswood together, get away from Septa Mordane, Jeyne, and Sansa for some time."

Arya smiled. "Yeah."

Then Arya's direwolf pup came and started to pull in the side of Arya's dress to get her attention. The little stunt was very endearing to watch the two. She had been in Winterfell for three days and yet she had never been this close to a direwolf. There were six, one for each Stark child and one for the bastard son.

"Nymeria, down," Arya begged, but the direwolf did not obey, much like her master. Eventually she got the wolf to calm herself and turned to the princess who smiled.

"Nymeria, the warrior queen. I see why you would name you direwolf after such an amazing woman." Vorian was a descendant of Nymeria, when she married Davos Dayne. She kept out the last part. She didn't want to brag or show how bookish she was.

"It's a much better name than Lady," Arya spat, mocking her elder sister.

"Sansa cannot be that bad," Lyla infured.

"She's not," Arya huffed. "I just don't like her very much, she's so annoying."

 _Then again I have a sibling I do not like very much._ "I know how you feel. My brother is Joffrey." Arya winced while giggling to herself. Arya noted that Lyla loooked and acted nothing like her brother Joffrey. The boy had golden hair and was very pompous. Lyla was kind hearted and with black locks. Thank the gods that she was not like her brother. One was enough.

Arya then began running as she suddenly remembered something. The princess hitched up her dress a bit and ran after the girl who shouldn't have been running.

"Where are we going?"

"To watch my brother beat yours!" Arya gleefully responded, which earned a giggle from Lyla.

They arrived to the lookout for where the boys would be practicing sparring. They had been coming out a lot recently to practice their sparring. The two boys of seven and ten were both not very good adversaries. Tommen was very tall for a boy his age, so despite his age, he leveled up to his competitor. Though Tommen was never much of a fighter. So that gave Bran, who wasn't much of a fighter either, the slighter edge.

Lyla noticed that there was a boy observing the fighting from above. She shouldn't have called him a boy. He wasn't a boy at all. He was grown enough. He had dark eyes and long black waves. He looked absolutely miserable as he dressed in all black with a seemingly permanent brooding look. Beside him was a direwolf, as white as the fresh frost with unblinking red eyes. Judging by the direwolf, she could easily come to the conclusion that he must have been the bastard son of Ned Stark. She looked plainly at him. He didn't appear like any of his siblings, nor his father.

Arya looked happy to see her half-brother, while he seemed very uncomfortable once he saw the princess. He probably thought that he presence was offending her, much like Vorian and her had previously established. She gave him a quick grin, as she was not bothered by bastards, as leaned down to greet his direwolf. The war fur felt good against her hands that had felt so cold.

"Princess," he bowed his head in respect.

"Please, there are no need for curtsies," she assured him.

"Jon, why aren't you down in the yard?" Arya asked.

"It wouldn't be proper for a bastard to spill the blood or hit at a prince," he explained, "only trueborn may."

His eyes never left Lyla, he had seen her upon her arrival in Winterfell, but when she was closer, it seemed as if he shouldn't been allowed to look at her. She was that beautiful. So much so that he couldn't believe the luck of his half-brother Robb, who once again was blessed with a beautiful and youthful wife. Her dark hair, fair complexion, and emerald eyes. She was in a pink dress, it made her more visible in a crowd. She kept looking at him as well. She had never been allowed to speak to bastards before, only once.

Arya looked as if she felt guilty for her bringing up the whole situation to place down Jon's feelings. The princess once again spoke up. She thought of this grown boy with a muscular body fighting against Joffrey. She had seen him practice and he was not very good, despite what he says. "You would find Joff a lacking opponent. He is quite a sore loser at that."

The bastard gave her a genuine smile. She liked his smile. Too bad he was brooding to often to smile.

"Bran is fighting your brother," Arya chirped excitedly, gaining the attention from the two.

In the yard were Brandon (or Bran, as his siblings called him) and Tommen were sparring. It was not very impressive as they were both very young. They were dressed in heavy armor that made it seem impossible for the two of them to truly move properly. All that Lyla knew of battle and sparring was from what she saw and what Vorian told her. Neither of them were very good, though it seemed that Bran would most likely win. Tommen was never much of a fighter, unlike their father.

"You see prince Joffrey?" Jon lowly asked Arya, though Lyla could hear what he was trying to hide from her ears. "Look at the arms on his surcoat." It was the sign of their family, the sigil of House Baratheon of King's Landing to show the union of the two great houses in their four children. Although Lyla preferred to just be called a Baratheon. "The Lannisters are proud," he whispered, "you'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honor to the king's."

"Power doesn't run the country, gold does," she informed the bastard, which caught him off guard, he turned to the girl who was watching the yard. "You are right about the pride though."

He looked at Arya, "perhaps you should do the same thing little sister. Wed Tully to Stark on your arms."

Arya laughed, "a wolf with a fish in its mouth? That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

"Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords by not the arms. I don't make the rules, little sister," Jon informed her.

"That's just how the world works," Lyla told Arya and Jon. "Very unfair."  _Though I'm a princess, I shouldn't say anything. Though I am a firstborn who will never get the throne even though I am twice as capable as Joffrey._

While they were busy speaking to each other, Prince Tommen was defeated by Bran. He was knocked over. Lyla felt bad for her baby brother. He was so little. He would still crawl into his sisters lap and ask her to tell him stories or sing to him. He especially liked the songs. He was missing his cat. Although she was glad to see Bran help him up. It was kind. Jon grinned for his younger brother's victory. The men below were laughing.

"Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor. Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go for another round?"

All three from above smiled to themselves. Jon had already watched Robb beat the prince already, he made the pathetic boy yield, his brother Robb was always better than him at fighting, while Joffrey had little grace or technique. Arya wanted to see the cocky prince get one for from her older brother, it would make the best out of a not particularly good day. The princess was interested in seeing her brother be taken down a peg, but one than that she was curious of her betrothed's skill with a sword.

Robb stepped into the marked area for combat with a confident reply. "Gladly."

Joffrey immediately spoke up, not one to usually remain silent. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Lyla laughed sharply, causing all eyes to move up to the princess watching their sparring. She was leaning over the ledge to get a good look at the two fight. She didn't mind having their eyes on her, instead she had a very delighted smile on her face. Robb looked at his betrothed with kind eyes, admiring her beauty and her infectious laughter. Joffrey however was just annoyed.

"You are a child," Lyla called out, mocking her younger brother, causing his face to turn a hue of red.

He looked away to ignore her. "Robb may be a child. I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb spat, not very pleased at Joffrey's attempts to emasculate him in front of the princess. "Are you afraid?"

 _Of course, no one is a bigger coward than Joff,_ Lyla rolled her eyes thinking of all the times her brother ran away scared. Like when they got lost in the forest and he ran away when they found a group of criminals, leaving her for dead. He was the biggest coward who would ever sit on the iron throne one day.

Prince Joffrey gave him another sneer, "oh, terrified. You're so much older." The men from Joffrey's party laughed mockingly, choosing to side with their prince, as fear of what could be done to them otherwise.

 _Fifteen and seventeen. There isn't that much of a difference. Except for Robb's size and his muscles compared to the rather scrawny prince._ Lyla scoffed almost too loudly. She could tell Joffrey was making up excuses to not fight Robb Stark simply because he could not bare the humiliation of being defeated by the Stark in front of all these men and especially in front of his sister who would most likely retell this story to their family over dinner or breakfast. Lyla would tell them of course.

 _Joffrey truly is a little shit._ She scowled.

"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik questioned.

"Live steel."

"Done," Robb replied, "you'll be sorry!"

Ser Rodrik held Robb back with a calming hand. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

Joffrey was ready to compromise, he wanted an opportunity to win back the respect of his men who had witnessed his earlier defeat. He as well wanted to show Lyla what a weakling her intended was. Before he could voice his mind, his loyal Hound stepped forward.

"This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge to his sword, Ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it," he responded with much pride.

"Are you training women here?" Hound barked.

"I am training  _knights_ ," Ser Rodrik returned. "They will have steel when they are ready."

"The boy is ready to take a wife but not a sword?" Clegane questioned, which made Lyla's face turn sour at the mention of the princess so crudely. She also did not like how they were insulting him. She would speak up, but she must remain more ladylike to be desirable to her intended. He continued, "I was not aware that knights needed near so much coddling. It is no wonder the North is not known for its knights. South of the Neck, squires are given blades as young as eleven, if they are able to swing them. Can your young lord not yet swine a blade, or are you simply afraid for him, Ser."

Robb's face was red with rage, it looked as if he would just grab a blade and hack Joffrey into bits. Rodrik Cassel however managed to remain unintimidated by the Hound, something Lyla rarely saw, as the man's scares alone were enough to invoke fear. She had growing respect for the man.

"Let me do it. I can beat him," Robb argued. Lyla wasn't sure if she admired his nerve or exasperated by his foolishness. He most likely could beat Joff. But it would not be proper for him to beat the prince in front of such a large crowd. She knew her brother did not fight with any honor, he would use his status to his advantage. And should Robb injure the boy, the Hound would take his hand for it. Or maybe his head.

Rodrik still refused their offer. Joffrey looked thrilled, as if he was relieved that he could talk big and not have to put actions to his words. He looked up at Lyla who looked simply disappointed. He smirked mockingly at the older girl.

"It's a pity," Joffrey said loudly, still staring at Lyla. "My sister have seen me best you, Stark. But then, we wouldn't want her to call off the wedding on account of not wanting to marry a little boy."

Robb cursed the prince, and then looked up at the princess who was watching with a stoic expression. She took in a deep breath and make eye contact with him. She felt so embarrassed as his face faded from red to ghost white. She stood there in mortification as the laughter of the men that walked away with Joffrey.

 _That shit has gone too far._ She clenched her fists. She liked to believe she was a rather peaceful person. She only ever thought true violence should be a last resort to issues. But with Joffrey, it seemed as if he only learnt anything when he was put into his place.  _He doesn't get to win. He doesn't get to win again. No this time._ She walked away so fast it was if she was running.

She found Joffrey eventually walking alone. He turned to face his sister with the same smug grin he had on when he embarrassed her intended. Before he could say anything she slapped him with all the strength she could muster. It was said that while her hand was soft and gentle like her mother's, it was as strong as her father's. Joffrey had bent down and placed his hand at his cheek. It sent a siring pain on his cheek as she left a light red mark. He looked at her completely dumbfounded.

"I'm telling mother," was his first response to being slapped by a princess, who was stronger than him.

"Speak like that to any Stark again, or make a scene, and you will learn the true meaning between our house words, dear brother," she warned him.

"I don't have to listen to you, I will be king one day and all you'll be is a lady, that boy's who-" she slapped him again. He held his other cheek and shrieked in pain. It was as if she had slapped Tommen (which she would never do). He was acting like a small child when he got hit.

"Princess, you cannot lay a hand on the prince," the Hound reminded her, she was a lady and should know her place and that her actions would disrespect him in the eyes of their men. Though she could not care less about how her scolding would effect the image of the rotten prince. They deserved to know how much of a weakling and coward her brother was.

"What can a princess not do?" A dornish accent asked. They all turned to see See Vorian walk over to the Hound. He was not pleased about him threatening the princess. His disliked Clegane, and Joffrey. Watching her slap him made him laugh. He placed his hand on his sword warningly. "She is simply defending the honor of the Starks. A prince should not be so disrespectful to his goodbrother. We wouldn't want Lord Stark to start asking for a dowry for all the trouble you've caused."

The Hound practically growled angrily before turning to leave as if he just stopped caring. Joffrey glared at his sister who had a proud smirk on her face. Then he turned to follow the Hound.

"Thank you, Ser Vorian," she thanked him.

"Of course, princess," he said. "Now back to needlework with you. The Septa has called for you."

"All right," she nodded, following him back to the room where the girl's were.

While walking away, she turned and noticed Robb standing not too far from where she was earlier. Had he seen her slap her brother like that? Did he hear everything she said? He smiled as he watched the princess walk away. There was more to her than what he thought, he was interested in what was behind her pretty face now.


	5. The Crypts of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla visits the crypts of Winterfell.

It was as if everyone forgot about the incoming wedding between House Stark and House Baratheon until it seemed to be suddenly remembered. All the lords and ladies were invited. From the Bear Island to Greywater. Unfortunately having the wedding in the North meant that her uncles from her father's family would not be in attendance. Stannis was rather cold, and she felt uneasy around her Aunt Selyse. Though she adored her uncle Renly who threw festivities all the time. She would have to accept it. Benjen would still be there for the wedding. Her uncles would both be there, though her grandfather was not, though she hardly knew him. She wasn't too interested in who would be in attendance. There was only one person there who she was worried of.

She noticed how Lady Stark dressed. How Sansa and Arya dressed. The way the women in Winter Town dressed. Her outfits were all colorful and the designs so different. She would have to live in Winterfell, and her outfits should reflect the place she loved. She did not want to seem like an outsider. People would either look in awe at her jewelry, hair nets, or colorful dresses. Or they judged her for her pride. She wanted to wear what the others wore. Though her mother disagreed with this notion, as she was a lioness and by what right could they judge their princess.

It seemed as if Sansa suddenly became obsessed with the wedding. Lyla was fond of the red haired maiden, though she was not so fond of the girl's favorite subjects; courtly romance (of which she had no experience), weddings (which she tried not to think about), and Joffrey (whom she loathes). Myrcella was as excited to see her sister be wed, but also afraid of losing her older sister as she would live in Winterfell instead of King's Landing once she was wed and bed. Currently they were all seated, speaking to one another to pass time.

"Do you know what your wedding gown will look like? Have you decided ivory or gold?" Sansa asked.

"White," Lyla confirmed.  _The color of purity and innocence for the virgin bride._

"Mother had them make it for her before we left King's Landing. No one but mother has seen it."

"You're going to look so beautiful," Sansa told the older girl who smiled at her future goodsister.

"Thank you. I am sure you will look gorgeous on your wedding day with Joffrey. It will be the royal wedding in the Great Sept of Baelor with every lord and lady in Westeros attending. This will just be the godswood." Her lips curved up into a small smirk, it was almost hilarious how devoted Sansa seemed to the prince she hardly knew.  _Though if she did know Joff, she wouldn't be so excited to be wed to him._

"I can only hope so," Sansa sighed, the prince hadn't shown much interest in her recently.

"What does the godswood look like here in Winterfell, Sansa?" Myrcella asked. The Red Keep was considered a younger castle compared to Storm's End or Winterfell. There was a godswood, only it did not look like the rest. They went there to pray when their mother forbade them from leaving the castle to the Sept.

"There is a heart tree where you will stand beside for the old gods to witness your union. It is nice enough. Have you seen the glass gardens, now they are lovely, princess," she assured them.  _I highly doubt it. How I tire of walking through gardens. I would like to see a heart tree._

"I can't wait for the wedding, Lyla. I have never been to a wedding," Myrcella mentions. "It is so soon."

"I know," Sansa giggled, looking at the princess. She noticed the giddy princess was uncharacteristically solemn in their moments of bliss. "Does that no please you, princess?"

"It is not my pleasure I am worried of," the princess confessed, not wishing to be dishonest with Sansa or her younger sister. She looked down at her hands in shame as she spoke, she felt rather embarrassed while talking. "I am worried that Robb is not pleased with me."

"That's absurd! Robb loves you!" Sansa exclaimed, loud enough Lyla was sure enough that Robb himself would hear them in the yard, her grandfather Tywin could hear them in the west, and Uncle Stannis could hear her from his castle on Dragonstone.

Lyla felt her cheeks heat up at the statement.  _He and I haven't had an actual conversation with each other. How could be possibly love me when he hasn't even spoken to me?_ She looked at Sansa for confirmation. The younger girl did know Robb better than her, and she wanted to know if there was any truth to that bold statement.

"He loves me?" She asked.

"If he doesn't now, then he will," she retracted, feeling a bit embarrassed by her outburst and choice of words. "You are the princess. The most beautiful and fair maiden in all of Westeros. He would be a fool to think otherwise. He will fall in love with you."

"Yeah," Myrcella nodded, agreeing with Sansa.

Lyla smiled at the two summer children, who were so pure to believe that betrothals always lead to an instant love and affection. She knew from watching and listening to her mother and father that love was not always followed by a courtly match, they were to benefit the family line as her grandfather explained. She didn't want to marry someone she was not in love with, but she would accept her fate. Robb was stern like his father, though he was young and very handsome, she heard that he was kind and charming, though she had not seen it, she believed it. Lyla could do much worse than the heir to Winterfell and future Warden of the North.

"Robb is so handsome," Myrcella commented, "the most handsome man I have ever seen. Joffrey said Northmen were hideous monsters, but they look like other men from the south. Though Robb is so handsome from his Tully family in the Riverlands."

 _I do like those blue eyes,_ she thought. Lyla smiled and nodded to her statement. "He is handsome."

"Robb Stark will fall in love with you and it will be like something just out of a story, I know it," Myrcella boasted, very excited about the prospect of love.

"Thank you," Lyla nodded. "Please so pardon me."

"Of course," Sansa grinned.

Lyla stood up and walked away. She despised having her ladies in waiting following her constantly, so she dismissed them once her and Myrcella found Sansa. Now that she was walking away, Vorian came to her side to watch her back. He had been waiting outside to give her some privacy with the two other girls, but other than that he followed her closely to make sure she was alright. He didn't know exactly where she was walking to, but he followed closely.

"Where are we going, princess?" He asked, noticing they were leaving the area with the yard, the women, the stables, or where they arrived. He was unsure if they should have been walking here. He didn't care what the queen said, but it was his job to protect her and he disliked watching her be scolded.

"The crypts," she simply replied, as if it were normal for the princess to wish to invade the sacred burials of the Stark family for generations since Bran the Builder.

He sighed, realizing there was no way he could talk Lyla out of visiting the crypts. She was as stubborn as a bull when she had her mind set to something. "You know your mother will not approve, correct?"

"I do," she nodded, not thinking too much in depth about what her mother would want.  _If mother had everything she ever wanted than there would be no other great houses in Westeros, she would sit on the Iron Throne herself with unlimited power, and all her children would remain young so they could not be married and taken away from her._

"Alright, I just want to make sure we are on the same page," Vorian said, following her still.

She walked towards the First Keep, near a broken tower. She looked up at the broken tower so far away from the rest of Winterfell. She heard of the old castles that were built by the First Men long before the Andals arrived in Westeros, conquering most of Westeros and their castles. Such as Storm's End, that was rumored to have been built by Bran the Builder. The broken down castles. She didn't spend too long watching the tower before she continued over to the First Keep.

The First Keep was a squad and round drum tower, it didn't appear very tall. It was the oldest part of Winterfell. It was where all the history of the old castle was held, it made her shudder at the very sight of the haunting castle that seemed out of the many stories she had heard of the North that you should fear. It was also decorated with weatherworn gargoyles. Besides the fortress, there was the ancient lichyard containing the graves of servants for the King's of Winter. She looked over and noticed, the door to the crypts.

She turned to Vorian who was looking around curiously. She knew this must have all been strange to the dornishman. He had been to many places apparently, he knew many things that she could have only imagined. Vorian told her of Starfall, Sunspear, the destruction of Summerhal, Dragonstone, the Eyrie, and so much more. He even told her about Essos. Yet he had never been to the North in all his life. He looked surprised by the weather, the landscape, and all that it held. She watched the older man until he looked at her, noticing they reached the doors to the crypts.

"Shall we?" He asked.

 _This is something I have to do on my own,_ she thought.

"No, I will be alright alone. You are excused."

"Princess-" he stopped himself. He understood her.

"Thank you," she curtsied and walked to the door.

"I'll be waiting here for you."

 _You shouldn't. It could be a while._ And then he turned to go view the lichyard and the gargoyles.

Lyla placed her hands on the cold ironwood door. She tried to open it, it was old and heavy which made it near impossible for the princess to open. Though she was stronger than she appeared, and was able to pry the door open and reveal the crypts. It was lit my torches, though she felt herself more cold the further she walked down the stairs. It was an old stoned spiral staircase. On one floor there was long line of granite pillars, two by two, between which are entombed the dead of House Stark.

For centuries the members of House Stark have been buried in the crypts. The thought of the hundred buried there scared her in the slightest. Though they were all buried there together, only the former Kings in the North and Lords of Winterfell were built statues for. She looked at the faces of the men. The likeness of the high lords were carved into the stone. Some shaggy, some clean shaven. Large stone direwolves curled at their feet. And longswords with the lords. The crypts themselves seemed larger than Riverdale itself.

She finally arrived at the most recent ones. Former Lord of Winterfell, Rickard Stark, father of the current lord Ned Stark. He was killed by the Mad King, which was one of the events that started to rebellion that ended the Targaryen dynasty. Besides him were his children, breaking tradition of only lord's being allowed to have statues built of them, Brandon and Lyanna.

Lyla stopped walking in front of the statue of Lyanna. She looked up at the statue of the woman.

 _She truly is as beautiful as they all say. Even carved into stone, she is a great beauty. I know why father must have loved her so much that even now his heart is still for her._ Her father placed a feather there for her, she didn't quite understand why a feather, bit it was a nice sentiment. Lyla knew how the woman died, her father never spoke of her to his daughter, her mother never spoke of her, and no one in the Red Keep was allowed to speak her name. Except Vorian, who told her about Lyanna.

 _She passed at the fragile age of sixteen. I am sixteen. Lyla is for Lyanna after all._ She pondered, looking up at her face.

Had she lived, Lyla would have never been born. Maybe it was a good thing she died. In a twisted way. Her kidnapping led to the overthrowing of a horrible family which her father was none more pleased to bash. She felt guilty for thinking that. She knew what happened to her, to Elia Martell, to Elia's children. She wrapped her arms around herself and wished she knew the girl.

_Four years I have waited to face Lyanna Stark. The woman who my father loves, who he was supposed to marry, the aunt of my betrothed, my namesake, a woman who was kidnapped by the crowned prince, a prince my father jammed a warhammer into, a woman who was raped repeatedly and left to die. A woman who should have lived to prevent the bloodshed of thousands, and possibly more in the future._

She covered her own mouth as she looked down and closed her eyes that felt light with tears.

"Princess?"

She turned once hearing that familiar voice. She looked and saw Robb Stark walking towards her.

"What are you doing in the crypts?" He asked.

"I apologize, my lord. I'll leave immediately."

"No, it's alright. I just want to make sure you were okay, and that you don't get lost," he admitted.

"Thank you, my lord," she nodded.

He stood a few feet in front of her. His eyes never left hers. Her eyes were light emerald color. She was beautiful, he always thought she was. The most beautiful woman he had seen. His father told him that Robert spoke that his daughter was a beauty. He never would have imagined someone so lovely. While Lyla admired him. She hadn't been this close except when they first met in the yard with her father and his family. Myrcella sang his praises very rightly so. He was very handsome. Not a horrid monster Joffrey wanted her to think of.

"Robb, you may call me Robb," he informed the proper girl who addressed him the way a woman should. Only he didn't want her to address her that way. "I am not lord of Winterfell quite yet."

"As you wish, Robb. Then you may call me Lyla," she added, "we are to be married soon."

"Within the fortnight," he reminded her.

"Yet I know nothing of my husband," she added.

"And I know nothing of my bride," he replied.

He smiled at her before turning to the statue of his deceased aunt Lyanna. "Why are you here, Lyla?"

She felt ashamed that she had come down here. The subject of Lyanna must have been as forbidden in Winterfell as it was in the Red Keep. Though she was truthful with him and did not try to find an excuse much like her mother would have tried to, or wanted Lyla to lie to him. She didn't want to lie to Robb.

"I have only heard whispers and stories of Lyanna. That she was beautiful. That she was wild. That my father loved her so dearly he started a rebellion for her." Her tone was calm and stern, she spoke clearly as she looked at the statue of Lyanna much like Robb. Avoiding eye contact with him. "I wanted to see..."

"I understand." She looked at Robb, not knowing how could understand what she was saying. He didn't know what she knew about her Houses or her parents. Though he would know about the Starks own grief. "I understand the curiosity. Father never speaks of her."

"Neither does mine," Lyla added. "I didn't know who she was until I was eight years old, my uncle Stannis mentioned that Lyla was meant for Lyanna."

"I know. Robb is for Robert. Out father's were brothers. More so than my father was a brother to either of his brother's, Brandon or Benjen."

"My father is not much of a brother to either Stannis nor Renly," she responded. "He didn't love many people. But your father and your aunt are one of the few he does. Enough so he spurned his own wife, his queen, by naming their first child after the woman he loved instead of her. Your name is for a friend, mine was for grief. I felt like I was tied to Lyanna in that way. I spend much of my time thinking of her since my arrival in Winterfell. I had to see her for myself."

Robb looked at her. There was more to the princess than he first thought, she wasn't at all like Joffrey. She didn't even look like her brother, nor her other siblings for that matter. Her voice. It was calm and soft, her tone remained gentle even when she spoke of such horrible things as her mother and father's marriage. She turned to him and then closed her eyes just a bit to avoid his gaze with a small grin pulling at the sides of her lips. Her plump lips, the color of her pink gowns she was so fond of wearing. Only now she was in a light pale green dress and look with light grey furs at the top.

"And now that you've seen her?" He questioned.

"I hope that the Father judged those who hurt her to the seventh hell. That the Mother graced her with the mercy of the seven heavens. That is all I hope for."

He smiled at her genuine response. She was very compassionate to the woman neither of them had met, but whose existence caused so much grief for Lyla's family. She looked at him kindly.

"I think I'm ready to leave," she concluded, relieved that she had come to see the statue finally.

"Allow me to escort you," he offered, with great chivalry. He held out his arm for her to accept.

She took his arm. He looked at her before leading her forward. His face was stern, he had a strong jawline, and she could see that he had shaven his face though he could most likely grow a beard if she wished him to. She wondered how he looked with facial hair. She smiled to herself as he lead her up the stairs.

"Where is Ser Vorian?" She asked, once they left the crypts and she did not notice her dornish sword anywhere to be found.

"I excused him," Robb instructed. "I wanted to privately talk to my intended. You've been in Winterfell enough time, and yet we haven't spoke a word to each other."

"How did you know I was in the crypts?" She asked curiously, realizing that he found her by chance. "Were you following me by some chance, Robb Stark?"

He chuckled to himself. "No, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. And I wanted to talk to you. I was going to find Sansa for my Mother, when they informed me that you left. Your sister, princess Myrcella, told me that you were upset because you thought I was unpleased with you. I wanted see if that was true."

"I was just worried you were upset you have to marry a woman that you do not know," she admitted.

"I was," he admitted honestly. Lyla looked at him with great worry ridden across her face. Her mother told her that the best thing that could happen was that he would either ignore her or she could use foolish love. "I have never heard good of the Lannisters. Southern culture is very strange." Lyla raised an eyebrow,  _the North is far more bizarre than the other five kingdoms. With exception to the Iron Islands._ "Though I have to admire a girl with that much power to her palm."

"You saw me slap Joff?" She asked.

"I did. I wish I could have for what he said of me in front of you," he confessed honestly to her.

"Joffrey is the worst. This is the third time I have ever struck my brother. And unfortunately it is my last. Next time we see him could be his coronation." She practically shivered at the thought of her horrid brother who terrorized herself, Myrcella, and Tommen. "You would have won, Joffrey is not very brave."

He laughed at how she spoke of her brother. He could not relate to her feelings towards Joffrey, he disliked the prince very much already, though he loved all five of his siblings, even Jon Snow. Maybe especially Jon.

"You met Jon, correct?" Robb asked.

"Briefly," she responded, "he was very brooding."

"He is constantly brooding."

"Though I do like his hair," Lyla added.

"He likes his hair as well," Robb added. She giggled.

"I didn't know the heir of Winterfell was this charismatic," she commented.

"This is our first conversation. We will be wed five nights from this one. I am glad we could talk."

They stopped at Winterfell. She could see Myrcella watching with a gleeful grin across the girl's face she she watched Robb chivalrously lead Lyla back to the princess, arm in arm. The girl wasn't much of a romantic herself, though she admired the stories and songs about great love. She would have to be betrothed one day. She looked to this as hope that she might be so lucky.

 _Five nights_ , Lyla thought, not realizing how little time there was until she would marry a Stark.

He stopped her in front of her sister.

"Thank you, Robb," she curtsied.

"It was my pleasure, princess," he replied, as they were in the company of many people, he would have to call her by her title. She did not mind. She did prefer calling him Robb instead of my lord. "Princess," he bowed to Myrcella. Then he excused himself.

Lyla watched him leave with longing eyes.  _Five nights_.....


	6. Northern Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla decides to join her uncle hunting.

_Four nights...._

She sighed. She watched as her mother looked over the lovely dress that they had made for her in King's Landing. She had a fitting before they left, she had a fitting that day. Her thin waist would still allow her to fit. Her mother winced at the white gown with a fur and silk coat to keep her warm, and golden embroidery. It was magnificently crafted. This would be the dress she wore the night she would be given away like a brood mare and then defiled by that wolf. She would make Robert suffer for forsaking  _her_  daughter this way.

Cersei looked over at her daughter who was dressed in a pink nightgown. She was on her bed with her knees to her chest, her long waved flowing out neatly brushed, her eyes not leaving the canopy. Cersei slowly walked over to the wine that her daughter had not yet drank. They brought bundles of the stuff with them. Cersei poured herself and another for Lyla. She walked over and offered it to the girl who simply looked up at her mother with a solemn expression.

"Drink it, sweetling," she calmly ordered.

Lyla accepted the glass, despite she wasn't in the mood to drink. She rarely drank wine. Only when she had to. This was a time when she would have to.

"It will calm you nerves, sweetling."

With that they both took a sip of wine. Lyla sat up properly, making room for her mother to sit besides her. Cersei looked at her daughter who has been a woman for two years now. She was beautiful. Maybe more so than Cersei. Young, kind, radiant. Her mother wanted that beauty all for herself. The north would ruin her. She took Lyla's hand, her soft hand in hers.

"Four nights," Cersei informed her.

"Four nights," Lyla repeated like a little bird.

"I always loved you in this shade of pink," Cersei informed her. "Green and blue will be fine enough. Though black will soon enough be quite prominent in your clothing. No more red or gold. That is until you return to King's Landing."

 _According to the law, I will belong to Robb Stark once the marriage is consummated. According to you, I must bare him a son or two. I will never return to King's Landing. Or Storm's End. Or Casterly Rock. Or Summerhal._ She avoided her mother's gaze. She knew her mother didn't want to accept this either. Her grandmother Joanna died when her mother was a young child, she only wanted to make sure that Lyla had a mother.

"What if I do not return?" Lyla asked, curiously.

She touched her daughter's soft cheek, looking into her cat-like emerald eyes that mirrored her own. "Are you a lion or a stag, sweetling?"

"I am a Baratheon, my sigil is-"

"So you are a weak and feeble creature who will allow the bears and wolves of the North to abuse you?"

"No," Lyla responded.

"You are a lioness, my love. Embrace it. Stay quiet and obey. Never cry, men do not want your tears."

"I never cry." The last time the princess openly shed a tear was eight years ago. She only cried when she was alone. Though even then it was unlikely for her to cry.

"I know, that is why you are a lioness. Let them hear you roar from all ends of the North. So loud grandfather will hear. The squids in their water will hear. The snakes in the south will hear. I promise you that you will soon be brought home. Be patient, sweetling."

She wanted to tell her mother how kind Robb Stark was to him. How interesting the North was to her. She was not comfortable with Robb Stark the way she was to Loras Tyrell who had become a companion, his father wished for Loras to marry Lyla, it never happened and the two remained friends. Winterfell was cold and dark, with so much history of the great and proud Starks. She felt as if she didn't belong. But she did not detest the idea of living in the North the way that her mother wanted her to. She simply nodded.

Cersei kissed her daughter's forehead, the kiss lingered a bit longer than it should have. She pulled away and cupped her daughter's cheeks, looking at her daughter who was smiling at the queen. A kind and innocent smile. A daughter who was trueborn, clean, and truly innocent in a way that none of her others could be. She got up to leave. She took a few more sips while leaving.

_Robb Stark is kind. He is honorable. He is stern. He is handsome. He will make a good husband. But I do not love him._

She plopped down onto her bed, she looked at the wine, she disliked the taste of wine. It was very bitter. Although she drank it when she had to. After a few sips it stopped tasting bad. She needed to drink a lot to be drunk, much like her mother. Only she didn't have the love for it as her mother did.

She didn't want the wine to help her sleep. She didn't want the essence of nightshade  she mother dropped into her cup to make her sleep. Which is why she pretended to drink. She did not want to sleep just quite yet. She still had so much to think about with so little time that she would lay in this bed alone. Soon enough she would have a husband besides her. Knowing the Starks, he was honorable and would probably not take another's bed. Though, his father did...

_Jon Snow is a good man though. He was kind and good with Arya, his little sister. Even as a bastard he is a good man. Why is he so mistreated because the broken vows of Lord Eddard when Jon had done no wrong by merely being born._

She didn't know why Jon Snow came into her mind. She removed him from her thoughts quickly.

She had bastard siblings. She had only met one. Edric Storm, Robert's nobleborn bastard from the Stormlands when he sired the boy on her uncle Stannis's wedding night on the man's wedding bed. Her mother disliked that the two children met. She remembered that he had long black similar to hers, deep blue eyes, and the cheekbones their family was blessed with. He had large ears from his mother's family. She felt pity for the boy who should belong to two houses Baratheon and their vassal Florent that he would have no rights to either.

Edric was everything Joffrey should have been. She liked Edric enough that she wished he could have been her younger brother instead of Joffrey. To grow up with him, share their Baratheon heritage, and have a good king one day. Edric was often compared to her uncle Renly who was the greatest man to her that lived in King's Landing. Edric and her played in the ruins of Summerhal together. He chased her as she ran away. She was dressed in breeches and had a long braid flapping behind her. She would still hear the faint laughter as they played.

She had not seen him since then. Edric was not allowed to come to King's Landing, and Lyla was not allowed to come and see him at Storm's End, he was forced to leave when they came on the rare occasions that they would visit. Which was three times in her life.

She wondered if Jon Snow felt that way. To feel the way Edric felt when the queen glared at him. Not allowed to spend time with the boy's father, or siblings. To not be allowed to be with his family, to be an outsider. She felt pity for the bastard, though she felt worse for her pity. How could the princess possibly understand the hardships of being a bastard. Only she was brought up knowing she had no birthright as a woman.

Her only birthright was Robb Stark...

_...and in four nights he will be mine...and I will be his..._

Her eyes started to close as she drifted to slumber.

 

* * *

 

One thing that was good about Winterfell, was that the people were very welcoming to their princess. They all greeted her with smiles and bowing. This happened much wherever she went. She was kind to them in return. She learnt the name of the blacksmith, a baker and his wife who made a honey cake for her that was delicious, a butcher, and many more commoners. The northerners were not like many other people in Westeros. They were strong and tough like the winters they had to endure. But they were lively when they wanted to be.

The princess smiled as the cold wind wished against her fair skinned face. Her light eyes staring at the skin that was a light shade of grey dancing with a dull blue. She walked through the yard after she broke fast with her mother and her younger siblings. The younger two went off to their own activities and she walked with her mother. The woman was going to help make sure the wedding was ready as in three nights it would take place. But she walked with her daughter for a bit.

Cersei watched as the girl grew more comfortable in this place. It made her upset to think that such a beauty would be cursed to rot her from the eyes that adored her at the tournaments in King's Landing when she was crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, a well deserved title. She was her mother's daughter after all.

"Don't go far," Cersei called out, pulling her firs robber around her. This place was very cold and her mother was not faring very well. She did not belong in Winterfell. Her daughter on the other hand was in a light green dress with a light green cloak with a light silver fur over her shoulders. She was dressed in such dull colors she was looking as if she was starting to belong there. Her mother had it all too clear she did not like Winterfell. "You don't know what lurks in this cold place."

 _One of those direwolves at worse, and at best it is accompanied by one of the Stark children,_ she thought, not understanding all the grief Joffrey, her mother, and her septas spoke of the North. It seemed fine as far as she was concerned. They were different people, a very different culture that was harsh and cold. Though she accepted it fine. She didn't mind the cold anyways.

She and her mother parted. Ser Vorian followed her closely like her mother instructed. He was to not leave her side in the North, to make sure she was always safe in this strange place. He took pride in guarding her, and followed not too far behind her. She didn't seem to know where she was walking to. It was as if she was just walking around, exploring the castle that she would be Lady of one day. With Ned Stark leaving for King's Landing three days after the wedding, it might not be a long wait for that day.

 _Lady of Winterfell_ , she pondered. It was a step down from princess of the seven kingdoms. Though the title of princess was one in name only, with no true power except that every noble lord wished to have her marry a member of their family. Kevon Lannister suggested that she marry Lancel Lannister, her second cousin. The Martells made a proposal for the young prince Trystane. The Tyrells offered the knight of flowers, Ser Loras. Even the Vale tried but the babe was stillborn, before moving for Myrcella for Sweetrobin. But it was the Starks in the North that the princess always belonged to, from her birth to this day- three days before the wedding and the bedding they had waited for years.

She arrived in the plaza to see her uncle Jaime dressed in thin armor, mounted on his horse, with both his men and some of the Stark men as well. She smiled at her uncle. He was a good man despite his titles as a oath-breaker or kingslayer. The man was evil. He saved them all from death at the hands of a mad man. They called him the Mad King with great reason. He looked at his niece as her presence demanded all eyes come to her gentle beauty as she walked over to the horse.

She patted the horse with her bare hand. She liked horses. She likes to brush their hair, she liked to go on rides in the woods, though she was always accompanied for her own safety. Who knew what or who lurked the forests that they couldn't see, it was usually Ser Vorian or her uncle Jaime that accompanied her. Her shook his head as he smirked the younger girl who looked much like her mother with darker hair. She was so gleeful to see a horse after many days of talking of weddings and needlework.

"Going off, uncle?" She asked, looking over at all the other horses and the hounds as well.

"Hunting, riding," he responded, as he adjusted himself onto his horse properly. "Making the most of the North."

That made three Lannisters who disliked the North and four that were contempt with it. Though she did not see her Uncle Tyrion much as he was most likely passed out drunk or in a whorehouse, or passed out drunk  _in_  a whorehouse. Joffrey was with Tommen in the yard like the days before. Myrcella went with her ladies to change her dress. Her father was somewhere but not with the hunting party oddly, maybe with Lord Stark.

The horse nuzzled at her palm, and she scratched its head kindly before turning to the hunting party. She had not seen many of these men before, except for her men. She smiled graciously to the men, before turning to her uncle with a pleading grin that told him more than words had to. He quickly shook his head at her again.

"Your mother, the  _queen_ ," he empathized his twin sister, "will get angry, you know how she is."

"I promise! I will stay close to you!" Lyla begged her uncle, all the men started to smile at the girl.

"The woods aren't meant for a lady," Theon Greyjoy said as his horse rounded up to the party of Stark men. His eyes didn't leave her. "Or even a princess."

He rode to Robb Stark who came along, a charming smile to his betrothed who was like no princess he had ever heard of. She was more like Arya with her wishing to be with the men hunting and riding instead of with her mother preparing for the wedding that man noble lords of the North had arrived to attend or where coming for still. He admired that quality.

She sighed that the men were not letting her have some fun before her wedding. Vorian gave her sympathetic look. "It is for the best, princess," he assured her. She ignored his words as they were not helping her very much. Before she walked away, she looked to the stables, where a stable boy was watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. Many people did this, it made her smile to have him admire her. She awaited for him to acknowledge her after he was frazzled for being caught.

He bowed to his princess, and she smiled at the stable boy in return. "Bring me a horse, Ser."

 _No man will tell me any place or anything is too dangerous. I want to ride, I will ride all I want._ She thought with a confident smirk on her face as the boy left quickly to bring her a horse she could ride.

"Won't the queen be furious?" Robb asked, turning to the kingslayer before looking at his intended.

"My mother, the queen, will be furious, yes," she replied, as the stable boy came over with a black mare for her to ride. She smiled at the boy who helped her mount the horse. She sat upon the horse the way that a man should and not side saddle the way a woman should. "I want to ride and not be stuck in this castle for the week, my lord."

She knew he said for her to call him Robb, but there was company and she wanted to be proper in their company. He watched her speak to him, making it clear that with their new marriage, she would remain independent. Theon chuckled lightly at the girl who was like no princess that Sansa boasted about often. Proper, ladylike, beautiful. She was those things, but strong on her own like a Baratheon should be. Ready for life in the North.

Ser Vorian looked at his princess. "Princess, we are supposed to meet with Lady Sansa and Jeyne Poole. It would be rude not to attend."

"Than you shall tell them of my apologizes," she replied, dismissing his services currently.

He was about to speak before he nodded. "Of course princess, be safe in those woods. They are more riddled with the mystical and unexpected than those of the south. First direwolves. What could come next." With that the dornishman walked away from Lyla and the hunting party of men he was not fond of. He was also not for hunting. She watched him walk away as her uncle Jaime snapped her back into reality by speaking.

"Ride close to me," Jaime instructed the girl. His horse moved closer to her, "if you get lost, like back home..."

"That was once uncle Jaime! I was twelve years old, and King's Landing is very large and crowded. But, I will not get lost Uncle," she assured him.

 

* * *

 

"Stay with me," her uncle commanded as he turned to her. Lyla was a good rider, but she was taking time to look around and bask in awe at the northern woods, they were sacred as the worshiped the Old Gods of the Forest, while she followed the teachings of the Faith of the Seven. She was quite religious. She turned to him. Their hunting party was in front searching.

One man soon returned from the search with a smile on his face. He was quite proud of something.

"Bears," he announced proudly, his hounds barking and urging him to move deeper into the woods.

"Bears?" She exclaimed, but the party shushed her quiet to jot get the attention of said bears.  _Bears are sigils of House Mormont of the Bear Islands. And Joffrey joked that northern men turned into bears and that I would be raped by one of those beasts. That is all I know of bears. And one of those things is complete and utter horse shit._

Robb Stark moved his horse closer to his worried betrothed, he wanted to calm her. So her reassured her. "Small ones, princess," he said.

Her uncle Jaime looked at the way their eyes met, the way he spoke with her gently and how her mouth twitched into a grin when he spoke to her. Lyla turned her gaze from the eldest Stark boy to her uncle.

"Go on, Uncle. I'll stay here," she assured him.

"Will you look after my niece, Robb?"

Robb nodded, as Jaime gave him a tough look, a bit reluctant to leave his niece. He wanted to make sure this boy they were giving his niece to would be able to watch her and keep her safe. This was an easy enough task, and the Stark boy seemed capable enough. Though Joffrey had no kind words to speak of Robb, then again Joffrey never spoke kindly of anyone other than his father.

As the men started to leave to continue their hunt, Robb moved closer to the princess to keep his eyes on her constantly. She avoided his gaze. Soon enough it was just the two of them seated there waiting for the party to come back from their hunt. Lyla was not sure it was so uncomfortable to be in the woods alone with Robb. She felt more nervous since she noticed how much closer her wedding as getting. She could hardly look at his handsome face that watched her gloomy one.

He was readied with a bow in arm in case. She knew how to fire an arrow from a crossbow but not a regular bow. She would watch Joffrey practicing his aim with a crossbow with hares. She remembered the Master of Coin, Peytr Baelish, commented that with his aim the kingdom would be overrun with hares. She laughed so loud. She was alright. She had good aim, but she didn't like using the crossbow and hardly used it anymore. She wondered if he was well trained in marksmanship.

She turned to her young lord with a look of disbelief riddled on her face. "Bears! Can you believe that?"

"I guess bears aren't that common in King's Landing?" He laughed, as he turned around to look at the woods.

"People, shit, and more people are common in the capital," she laughed, using vulgarity that made the lord even chuckle slightly at her remark. She moved a bit closer to him, keeping her eyes on his stern face and chiseled features as he watched the city to keep them both safe from any bears that could stray to them.

After a few minutes of silence, Lyla nudged her betrothed, causing him to break focus and instead look over to the shorter girl on her black horse. Her green dress and furs with her loose curls made her seem as if she could have been from the North. The dress also complimented her emerald eyes of a Lannister. Though her eyes were comforting unlike their vicious eyes.

"I want to see the bears," she informed him. "May I?"

"I promised your uncle, princess," he said.

 _I told you to call me Lyla,_ she thought as a frown crawled onto her face. She didn't like being controlled by her family. She didn't want him to control her as well. How often would see be able to see bears?

He moved to be closer to her but she was moving away in retaliation. He was looking at her with calm blue eyes. "Stay close to me," he ordered.

"Bugger that," she cursed, as her horse ran to where she had watched the men go prior.

She listened for the hunting party, they were not too far off. She was glad she would be able to easily catch up with them in time to see the bears. She told her siblings fun stories often. Though this would be like something she had never seen before. She had never seen a bear. In fact she had never been on a hunt. Her mother claimed the forest was no place for a child. She turned and heard Robb Stark calling her name  _"Lyla! Lyla! Lyla!"_ As he chased her not too far behind.

She finally arrived where the party should be. When she looked there, she managed to see the cubs. They were anything but small. She remembered how Robb mentioned these were children, she could not imagine what they would look like as adults. They would be large enough to crush them all. She sat there in silence basking in their beauty of the animals.

"Princess!" Her uncle Jaime called, calling her attention from the bear cubs to her uncle. He was not too pleased to see the girl so close to wild animals. Her mother would be outraged to know she got this close to an animal like a bear. She was already ordering them to keep the direwolves from Lyla after they spooked Myrcella early in their visit. "I told you to stay over there, am I right? Go back and stay close to Robb."

She prepared to leave as she was told to, be her eyes lingered on the three cubs that stood there alone. Something was off about that. Something was missing.

 _Their mother is missing,_ she thought.


	7. Where Bears Roam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla is rescued from a bear attack.

Lyla's horse galloped to where Robb and she were supposed to remain while the men went on their hunt. Though with her disobedience, she unfortunately managed to lose Robb. She didn't know where he betrothed could have been. She knew she would remain calm and quiet in these woods as the hunting party needed silence to continue with their hunt. Though she felt very unnerved being alone without Robb besides her with his bow to make her more assure they were safe.

She started to call out for Robb. The forest was beginning to look much more different than before. She continued to call out for Robb, but all she heard in response was the sound of the leaves echoing through the trees. She stopped calling out and just listened to the so very unnerving sound of the wind wisp around her. Still she couldn't see anyone. She prayed to the seven that Robb would appear soon enough to calm her.

Suddenly her horse neighed, moving up as she tried to calm her horse, not understanding what could possibly be wrong with her horse. Though in the pit of her stomach she was starting to feel sick. She looked forward and heard loud footsteps approach her. She turned to see a seven door bear starting to approach her. She gasped in fear as her eyes widened and her pupils became smaller. She was horrified as it looked at the girl.

It clawed at her horse as it roared loudly, it caused her to fall off of her horse crashing onto the ground as the horse ran as far from the scene as it's legs would take it, abandoning her on the ground with a bear. She tried to get up but she was trembling so much she was almost paralyzed from any movement for a few seconds before it let out another horrible roar. Then she managed to find some strength and get onto her feet to run away.

She gasped for air violently a ran away. Unfortunately her clock was her undoing as it clawed at it that ripped off her and forced her down to the ground. As she fell painfully to the ground, her head bashing the ground, causing a cut at the top of her head and at her lip. She looked up and saw the bear looking down at her as it prepared to claw at her once again. She heard nothing but the sound of her own heart beat loudly as she closed her eyes tightly and prepared to be maimed.

Then she heard something being fired at the paw of the bear. It retreated back a bit to give attention to its paw. She turned around and saw Robb Stark was the one that fired at the bear. She smirked at the sight of her savior, only slightly because of the cut on her lip.

"Run to me!" Robb screamed, as he lined up for another shot. She barely managed to get off her feet before the bear was up again. She managed to outrun the injured bear over to Robb. "Grab my hand!" He ordered, she complied and took his hand, he pulled her up and she threw her legs onto the horse behind him.

"Faster!" She yelled for him to ride as the bears roars grew much louder as it began to charge, the arrow only made it much more aggressive.

He held up the bridles and the horse sped up, he turned around to his betrothal with blood on her lovely face. She seemed alright enough. But he couldn't begin to comprehend what would have happened had he not arrived when he did. "Are you alright, Lyla?"

She didn't take time to revel in the thought that he called her by her name, instead they had something of much more importance to focus on. A bear was currently chasing them. If it was to catch them, they would be dead for sure. "Yes."

She turned around and saw the bear was still following them. She had to do something. She grabbed the bow from Robb's hands. He looked back in disbelief at the princess as she prepared herself to shot at the bear.

"Do you know how to use a bow?" Robb asked, doubting the queen would have ever allowed her to use a bow in her life. She grabbed an arrow from his quiver as he calmed his neighing horse who seemed to understand the danger they were in.

"No," she responded.

She stretched out her hand and aimed at the bear. The first time she shot, the arrow flew past the bears head. She grabbed another arrow and shot it at the bears chest, which actually managed to pierce it. She grabbed the last arrow and shot it at the chest. She frowned to herself at her newfound proficiency she would never be able to do anything about after this incident. Unfortunately the bear didn't stop, it only became more aggressive and slow.

She turned and saw the castle they were coming closer to. She had never been more gleeful to see Winterfell. Her heart was beating fast, she managed to smile even if she was terrified still, she was cold from the loss of her clock. She held onto Robb not to fall off, resting her head on his back, feeling her bloodied lip. Robb let out a sigh of relief as he could see the gates and the bear was still following them anymore as it started to bleed out. He was glad Lyla was safe, as he felt her breathe slowly.

Once they reached the gates, they knew that they were safe. He slowed down as the men hurried over to the bear that was walking at that point. It stopped walked because of the blood it loss. The guards ran to the bear as soon as they saw it, only when they went to it, it was already dead from two arrows to its chest and one to its paw. The remaining guards gave entrance for Robb and Lyla who moved slower on the horse now that they were safe from harm.

They made their way to the plaza where the Queen Cersei was with her brother and the hunting party, her laid it into them while she yelled at them for their incompetence. They appeared without her daughter. Ser Vorian had been the one to tell her grace that she left with Ser Jaime, which meant he was to blame. Cersei was not pleased as she couldn't see her daughter.

"How can you be so stupid?! I told you to protect her! Is that such a hard thing to do?!" She screamed at her twin, in front of the whole yard to hear. "My daughter! The princess, out there in the woods! You are a kingsguard and her uncle, and you let her out of your sight!"

Jaime ignored his sister as he paced around the yard worried at what he had done. He shouldn't have brought her along, he put her in danger. Now she was missing. Cersei was yelling at him, as he was used to by now. Only he was slightly humiliated by the fact that all those men were watching. Even the captive Greyjoy was snickering at how he was being scolded by the queen.

Then they all turned when they heard Robb's horse come in. Behind him was the princess who clung to his back as the bear attack wore her out. Cersei gasped in terror at the ripped dress, missing cloak, dirt stains, and the blood in her forehead and lip. Jaime and Vorian sighed in relief to see the girl was alright. Her sworn sword walked over to her and helped the girl dismount and gave his cloak to cover her from their eyes as the dress underneath was thin than most northern dresses, so they men could see her curves.

Her mother walked over and grabbed her hand, her grip was very tightened on her wrist. "You will never leave my sight, ever again."

_In seven days I will be out of your sight forever, dear mother. But I will not embarrass you like that by reminding you in front of all these men. I have caused enough trouble for the rest of the day. Enough for a lifetime that is._

Her mother stormed away with Lyla with Vorian walking behind them. She looked behind her at Robb, she wanted a chance to thank him for saving her life. She owed him her life. He just watched her walk away.

 

* * *

 

"How big was the bear?" Tommen asked curiously.

"Seven feet tall, like the mountain that rides."

"Then Robb Stark saved you," Myrcella cooed.

"He did, pulled me onto his horse and rode us safely to Winterfell. Though I was the one who shot it down."

"How?" Tommen asked.

"With a bow of course," Lyla replied, ticking his chin which made the small boy giggle at his sister's touch.

"That's incredible," Myrcella sighed. "I told you that you and Robb Stark would have your own story one day."

"I am not sure this was the story you envision, dear sister," Lyla slightly laughed.

"No, but," Myrcella was cut off by Tommen.

"Were you scared?" He asked, eyes wide open while looking up at his sister. She tickled his jaw and continued with speaking.

"Of course, bears are rightfully to be feared, dear brother. They are large with claws. They will rip you into pieces if you cannot be smarter than it." She looked at Tommen's face begin to worry as he was not smart enough to handle a bear. She tried to comfort his thoughts, "do not worry Tommen. You will never have to face a bear in your life. All you have to worry about is tomorrow's lesson with Bran. But most importantly, there is nothing in the North to fear."

He sighed in great relief at that. So a thought came to his sister, as she liked to tease him and Myrcella sometimes. She smirked to them as she tried to remember what her uncle Tyrion told her of the North. Of the flaying men, the right to the first night, wargs, their ice wall, and children of the forest.

"Except the Others of course," she said.

"The Others?" Tommen repeated.

"Who are the Others?" Myrcella asked, becoming interested in the conversation.

"The snow will fall a hundred feet deep, when the long night comes. When the sun hides for years. And children are born and live and die, all in darkness. That is the time for fear, when the White Walkers move through the woods. Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their homes. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept, and felt the tears on their cheeks freeze. In that darkness the White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms. Riding their dead horses, haunting with their packs of pale spiders, big as houses-"

Before she could finish her mother came in. Tommen and Myrcella seemed a bit scared by the story from their sister. It was a story they had never heard, and it made their eyes open wide in fear. Her mother looked at the children who looked over at their mother. Tommen ran over and hug her, he was young and found her story horrifying. He was only seven. Though Myrcella was more amused now that the intensity of the story was over. She could actually smile at seeing her mother.

"Are you scaring the children, Lyla?" The queen asked.

"No, mother," Lyla lied, and her siblings nodded in agreement to keep their sister safe from more scolding.

"Myrcella, Tommen, off to bed with you."

Lyla waved to her siblings that reluctantly left with their mother's handmaidens that took them to their rooms. Ser Vorian shut the door leaving Lyla alone with her mother again. Cersei walked over to her daughter.

The attack was not that bad. Her daughter did not break any bones, she was not bleeding on her body, she didn't need milk of the poppy, or god forbid amputation. Her head was cleaned and there was a small scar that would heal soon. Her lip was healing well. She was still so beautiful, which made Cersei smile to herself. She was so angry at Jaime for being so irresponsible with her daughter. This day convinced her that Lyla could not remain in the North.

At dinner, when they told Robert, he didn't seem to see the danger. He praised his daughter for being a fierce hunter like her father, and then saw no fault since no one was hurt and she spent time with Robb. Cersei couldn't stand his ignorance. He was a stupid king. She couldn't trust him to protect her. She didn't trust Jaime to protect her daughter. She didn't trust Robb to protect her daughter. She would dispose of the king for forcing her daughter to be in the North.

"Are you alright, Lyla?"

"Yes."

"Were you afraid when you saw the bear standing over you like that? Did you feel helpless?"

She frowned. "Yes."

"It's alright to be afraid, sweetling. Only you cannot tell other that you were afraid, alright?"

"Yes, mother," she replied.

"Only stags would fear a bear. You are a lioness."

She was tired of hearing her mother repeat that statement to her so many times already. She wasn't a lioness. The Stark children were half Tully, but they never referred to themselves as Trouts. They were wolves. They bore one sigil of the Starks, she should bare the sigil of Baratheon, until her wedding when she would cloaked a Stark, and all her children would be Starks as well. Except her daughters who will belong to other houses when they grow old enough.

She knew her mother hated Robert. She could see it so clearly. The whole kingdom could see there was no love between the both of them. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be go to bed with someone she didn't love, she didn't want to have children with someone she hated, she didn't want to bare hatred and resentment. She wears worried that her betrothal will end with a cold and loveless marriage such as with her mother and father, Jon Arryn and Lady Lysa, her Uncle Stannis and Selyse. She knew the odds were against her.

Maybe she should be a lioness. Strong. Cunning. Royal. She was a princess, she could not cry snd she could not be afraid of wolves or bears. Because they told her that she was not allowed to be afraid. It was for her survival in this war that she do what she can to survive. She would try her best with Robb Stark, obey him and please him. She would listen to her mother. Her grandfather told her all of this during their visit at Casterly Rock, about the importance of family.

"Sing for me, Lyla," her mother requested out of nowhere. This was not that uncommon. "You haven't sung for me in weeks. The gods graced you with such a lovely voice, sweetling. I wish to hear it one more time before I should leave for King's Landing."

"Yes, mother," she replied. "What song would you like me to sing to you."

"That lovely song you sang for grandfather at Casterly Rock.  _Rains of Castamere._ "

She nodded. The song was about how her grandfather massacred House Reyne during their rebellion against her great-grandfather Tytos. It was what gave the Lannisters their newly found air of intimidation. It was why all the Houses had a distaste yet fear of the Lions of Casterly Rock. Why every golden haired lion chose to hide behind their name. For the thought that any house that crossed them would be slaughtered and left to rot, to show all others what would happen should they cross the Lannisters. The songs was slow and eerie.

Lyla sat up and placed her hands on her knees. She learnt the song a long time ago. Though she did not like singing it to her mother. She liked hearing it be preformed with instruments. It was a lovely song with a sad story of a foolish house. Her mother watched as her daughter closed her eyes and began to sing beautifully.

_"And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?_

_Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know._

_In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws,_

_And mine are long and sharp, my lord, a_ _s long and sharp as yours._

 _And so he spoke, and so he spoke, t_ _hat lord of Castamere,_

_But now the rains weep o'er his hall, w_ _ith no one there to hear._

_Yes now the rains week o'er his hall, a_ _nd not a soul to hear."_

Her mother smiled at the frown on her daughter's face. She knew her distaste for the song, especially the end. Her grandfather told her at the end the last time she sang the song, that her betrothal to Robb Stark was good because it would ensure their family would thrive. As this would secure the North when Joffrey would eventually ascend to the throne when her father would pass. She was so sad that day. He told her that this marriage would keep it that she wouldn't have to weep in the halls of her family one day.

Cersei just stood up and caressed her daughter's cheek before leaving the room to go get some rest.


	8. Bastard and Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow and Princess Lyla formally meet one another.

Robb hadn't been able to stop thinking of Princess Lyla Baratheon since he watched her be dragged out of the courtyard by her mother last day. The girl with king emerald eyes, long silky black hair, soft looking lips, sweet smelling, cunning with wits, and compassionate. With grace and yet he ferocity her House was known for. Whether she was slapping the crown prince or shooting a bear with a bow, when she had never used one before. She was incredible in every sense.

Only she was very stubborn. And a bit naive. How she acted as if she had never heard of bears. Though it was hardly her fault that she ended up being attacked by a bear, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just wanted to make sure she was okay the whole night. He wondered how she managed to sleep after something like that happened to her. She was cursed to stay in her room until the wedding apparently. She did send her sworn sword, Ser Vorian Dayne, to send him her thanks.

Apparently his close friend, Theon who got his best look at the southern princess the past day, couldn't stop talking about the princess either. Only not as polite.

"Did you see her without her cloak?" He asked, pointing out how she still wore her thin southern gowns. They could see her thin arms, her tin waist and firm hips, her bust was the highlight though. She had been covering up herself moderately, but the outfit barely left anything for Theon's imagination. He stung with the feeling of unfairness that Robb would get to have her first and always. Robb was always the lucky one.

"Please don't," Jon begged, not wishing to spoil the name of the fair princess he had already seen close up. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Lyla was fair as the songs suggested she would be. As much as he shared the envy of Theon, he did not wish to dishonor her with crude words.

"I didn't. You know, I have seen her before. When she was eight years old, she was pretty. Though she was never as beautiful and ladylike as she is now. A woman she is. Lovely and grown-"

Robb cut him off quickly and lifted a fist as a threat. "This better be going to a good place quick, Theon, she is my intended, do not disrespect her. She is also your princess and daughter of the King and niece of the Kingslayer. They could cut your tongue, if I don't."

"I was simply going to remark that you are a lucky man, Robb," Theon finished, with a cheeky grin on his face. Robb was still not sure that was exactly what the Greyjoy intended to say. Theon spoke of disgusting acts he had preformed. Of course women threw themselves to Robb, but he was not that kind of man, now he would be faithful to his betrothed. Jon for some reason didn't even flirt with women like his half-brother. Theon on the other hand was powered by the thoughts of his cock.

"Robb is lucky," Jon added.

"And I am glad he managed to find himself a wife of her status. She will make him a very happy man."

"Theon-" Jon warned him.

"I am also very excited for the bedding ceremony."

"There will be no bedding ceremony," Robb corrected his friend before he could speak more of the princess.

"It's tradition," Theon mentioned, distraught that he was choosing to leave out Theon's favorite part of the wedding or the feast that would follow soon after.

"She will be my wife and is your princess. I do not wish to have drunk men fondle her on her wedding night."

"Very honorable of you, Stark," Jon agreed.

"Your father took part in the ceremony when he was younger. The king did as well. Jon how are you okay with this? It's tradition after all. How else will we know the marriage was consummated?"

"By bedsheets," Jon explained. "The tradition is an excuse for you to touch the princess, see her bare. I understand Robb. I won't even be in attendance, it doesn't matter much to me."

"Why won't you be in attendance?" Robb asked, having wished that had known this sooner. He wanted his brother there on his wedding day.

"Your mother doesn't want me to be in the presence of the royal family. It would be disrespectful."

Robb snorted, "how so? I doubt the princess minds bastards. She isn't like the Lannisters or the king."

"It's alright, Robb," Jon assured him.

"Are you sure?" Robb asked. "I could speak with mother if you want me to."

"It's alright," Jon repeated.

"Alright then," Robb concluded, before turning his head to his other friend who seemed to think that they had forgotten about his crude statements of Robb's betrothed. Of course he had not. "Now Theon, would you prefer to be beaten or maimed for your words?"

"I prefer-" then Theon ran off, Robb ran after him and Jon laughed at the two of them. Like children. Even if one of them had already taken many women to be bed, while the other was preparing to be married soon. Suddenly Jon felt as if he was the child among them.

 

* * *

 

Lyla didn't want to be trapped in her room anymore, and she no longer wanted to be forced into the dull company of her ladies-in-waiting. She planned to send them back to King's Landing with the rest of the Lannisters, they had nothing here for them in the North. She was capable of taking care of herself. Women in the North did not have such pleasantries, she was alright with giving up something so useless. She also thought of her marriage in two days. Two more nights she would sleep alone. It made her heart heavy and her stomach churn.

_"I wonder if he'll turn into a wolf when he takes your maidenhood, sweet sister. They say the Northmen are skinchangers, that can turn into bears and wolves to fuck."_

She remembered that insult Joffrey said when they were riding besides each other to Winterfell. She knew that it was not true. That Robb was handsome and well groomed. Her fears of her maidenhood long faded. That was not what she was worried of, the pain or the feeling of being touched did not measure to her true fears.

_"The boy is ready to take a wife but not a sword?"_

She remembered how Sandor Clegane mentioned that earlier when Joffrey wanted to use live steel instead of the wooden ones they were given.

_"It's a pity. My sister have seen me best you, Stark. But then, we wouldn't want her to call off the wedding on account of not wanting to marry a little boy."_

She hated how Joffrey used her as an attempt to make him feel better that he was less of a man than Robb. Who was taller, more handsome, more brave, and stronger than the crowned prince.

She remembered how red Robb's face became and how he looked up at the girl. They were both ready for marriage in legal terms. Their father's sure thought they were ready for marriage that is. Though she was wondering if he felt he was old enough to already take a wife. He was only seventeen and she was only a young sixteen. She was wondering if they were mature enough for the commitment to one another for life.

_"If he doesn't now, then he will. You are the princess. The most beautiful and fair maiden in all of Westeros. He would be a fool to think otherwise. He will fall in love with you."_

She smiled sadly at the memory of Sansa's kind comment. She knew that the sweet summer child was only reminding her that she was worthy of Robb and that she was a very lovable woman, which she was.

All her life she was told how beautiful she was. Even as an infant laying in her crib, Robert had Ned come and see the girl. Little blacks hair, dressed in a golden dress with a lovely smile. Her father fell in love with her unconditionally because of how beautiful she was. Almost as if marrying Cersei was worth something. The common folk adored their princess. They wrote songs of her beauty, noble lords wanted to marry their sons to her, and men feel in love with her at the sight of her face or the sound of her sweet voice, especially when she sang. She sang often. Or when she danced. How she could dance. She was adored.

Though she felt as if that was afraid that her beauty was enough to capture his heart. She wasn't sure if his heart was what she wanted from him. She thought about it. She did want be loved by her husband, but beauty would not win her the love of her husband. Her mother is very beautiful, and yet her father was still dissatisfied with her enough to share his bed with many whores. The Starks were honorable and he would likely not share his bed with another woman who was not her. Though Lord Eddard Stark did one night apparently. Could she trust someone she hardly knew to be faithful?

Though there was one thing that always reminded her that she had no choice in what happened. She would have to learn to except what is happening to her. She remembered Reed the last time she brought up the subject with her father, what he told her:

_"Stop worrying, Lyla. Ned's a good father, and his son will be a fine husband."_

_"But what if-"_

_"No what ifs. I wasn't able to marry a Stark, but you will."_

Suddenly she was snapped back into reality as she realized she was at the stables. She smiled to herself as she went to go get a horse. She knew this was a horrible idea that would get her in much trouble after what happened last time she went riding in these woods, but she was not afraid. She would be fine. She would have Ser Vorian riding not too far behind her of course.

She walked in and started to look for a horse that liked her enough.  _So many different horses. Maybe a black horse, or a white horse, or brown? So many choices._

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she turned to hear steps. She left Ser Vorian to watch the door and make sure that the queen or Joffrey don't find her. She would be in deep trouble should she be figured out. She turned her head and instead of seeing a southerner, she saw who she recognized as Arya's half-brother Jon Snow.

She noted how he looked nothing like his sibling, and nothing like his father either. He had dark curled hair that was long and almost the color of the darks night sky. His eyes were dark brown to match with that hair of his. He was always brooding for reasons she could not understand, a princess would never understand the struggles of being a bastard were. At his legs was a white direwolf, only his had piercing red eyes that made their way to the princess, who was surprised and a bit worried as it approached her.

"Ghost," he warned the direwolf, trying to make it leave the princess alone. The wolf finally stopped not too far in front of her. He sat up. He didn't make a noise when she moved or bark at his owner or even growl at the princess. It made him all the more terrifying.

"Princess," Jon Snow bowed, "I apologize if Ghost startled you. He tends to do so."

"It's alright, Jon. I shouldn't have been sneaking around. I suppose I'm just not used to direwolves yet. Mother had been keeping them away from us. I haven't even seen the direwolf of my betrothed yet."

"His name is Grey Wind," he responded, she looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He elaborated, "the direwolf. Robb named his direwolf Grey Wind for some reason I forgot now. His is the most obedient to Robb, so I suppose you won't have to worry about him jumping you."

"That's good, I suppose," she nodded. She was moving around trying to find the things to ready a horse with.

Jon Snow watched the princess move around as she searched for all that she needed. It was strange to watch her look for something she couldn't find. He thought of the conversation he had a bit earlier with Robb and Theon, talking about how gorgeous the princess was. Of course all they said was true, very true. The people of Winterfell already liked their future Lady. Though she seemed completely lost in the ways of the North.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" He asked, noticing that she was probably preparing a horse.

"No, I don't want to trouble you," she replied.

"It's not too troubling, princess," he assured her.

"Thank you," she responded, standing up straight as he got her a saddle and started to set her horse.

She walked over to the horse that he was preparing for her, but she just stared at the Snow getting her horse prepared. She just watched him do so in complete silence. She wanted to say something to him, anything. What could a princess say to a bastard? He looked uncomfortable in her presence, as if he was doing this to just get rid of her or something.

He looked up and their eyes met for an awkward moment before they both looked out in different directions. He didn't feel right being around her. He was a bastard and she was a princess. Though he didn't feel as uncomfortable as he did when Arya was there. She was very calming. Her gaze was kind, her grin sincere, and her beauty radiant. He cursed Robb under his breath a thousand times.

He finished the job and turned to his princess. "The horse is ready, princess."

"Thank you," she nodded, walking over to the horse.

He remembered what he had heard from Robb what happened to the princess in the woods. She was nearly killed by a bear if it wasn't for her betrothed coming to her rescue. He knew that he shouldn't tell nobility like the princess what she should or should not be doing with her time, he is a bastard. But he had to.

"Princess, do you think it is wise to return to the woods again? After what happened yesterday."

She turned to the bastard and stopped smiling. She didn't exactly frown, instead her face looked conflicted. She wanted to go riding. She would go with Vorian. She just wanted to be out of this castle that felt suffocating to her. She liked the people and it was beautiful, but that didn't change that she felt out of place in the castle.

"I know. I know it's a bad idea. But I'm still going to do it," she insisted stubbornly.

"What about-"

"My mother?" She completed his statement. He looked at her as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. She continued to finish her sentence. "She will be angry."

"Then you shouldn't go," he replied.

"If I didn't do something every time my mother didn't want me to, than I would never do anything but stay in my room and sing to my mother," she informed him.

"The woods are no place for a princess," he remarked.

"Soon I will be Lady of Winterfell, not the princess anymore." She carried on.

He sighed, she turned to him, she could tell she said the wrong thing. She knew that as a bastard he would never be able to inherit anything. One day Winterfell would be Robb's, Bran and Rickon would be given castles of their own, and Sansa and Arya would be married to noble lords when they came of age. She didn't know what would happen to Jon Snow. Maybe he would become a knight or get some kind of castle job. But she knew he didn't want to listen to her problems.

"You know, my little sister Arya had become very fond of you after hearing you shot a seven foot bear. I didn't think I'd see the day Arya Stark was interested in discussing a princess," he laughed to himself. She smiled at the sight of his grin. It was a nice smile, unfortunately he rarely did so. She could see all the affections he had for his younger sister. She too was fond of Arya.   
  
"It was the most thrilling moment. Unfortunately I will never hold another bow in my life, if my mother has anything to say about it. I am a woman after all. And a proper lady does not use a bow or wield a sword."

"Which is why Sansa is fond of you," he added. Lyla remembered how much the summer child was interested in everything about Court, being a princess, and the elegance of royal life such as the balls, masquerades, banquets, and of course the tournaments. Sansa was perfect for that kind of life. She was glad the girl would get to see some of it, though she was hesitant that it was a good idea. She would have to marry Joffrey.

"I am fond of those Stark sisters. I am sure that you are fond of them as well," she responded. He nodded in agreement, though he wasn't very close to Sansa, but she was still his half-sister he supposed. She continued, "I'm nothing like any of my siblings. All of them of golden hair and look like Lannisters, while I favor my father. I suppose you look more like your mother."

"Aye," he shrugged.

"Are you close to Robb?" She asked.

"Aye, he is my brother and my best friend."

"Is Robb fond of women?" She whispered quietly. It had even something on her mind she couldn't have asked anybody about because of how humiliating it was. She hoped that Jon Snow would not laugh at her and simply answer her question truthfully so she could know that she was marrying someone who would be faithful.

"Fond?" He asked, confused about what she was inferring. "I believe so, I don't think he is interested in men. From what I know anyways."

"No, not that," she nearly screamed, her cheeks flushed quickly that she made Jon think that she thought Robb could fancy men. She felt more embarrassed than she was about asking the question in the first place. She was too far not to tell him everything she could. She didn't want him to repeat this conversation to Robb. "I meant does Robb fancy women?"

"I thought I just said-" he was still not getting it, so the princess got a bit too angry and embarrassed, her face red and her fist clenched when she screamed.

"DOES HE VISIT BROTHEL?!" Once she asked what she wanted to know, she calmed down and all she felt was many waves of embarrassment. She could see the uncomfortable look on Jon's face. She covered her mouth, sometimes she was impatient and hot headed. She didn't mean to snap at him or speak so crudely. She was the princess, a noble lady. "I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to apologize, princess. You were just wondering, and rightfully so. Women like Robb very much. But he is not one for brothels. I've never seen him walk into one or speak of whores either."

For some reason the thought of other women swooning over Robb made her very bitter. She didn't want that. She understood why. His curls, his strong jaw, those perfect blue eyes. Even her younger sister swooned over how handsome he was. But the thought the women in Winterfell would look at her betrothed and swoon after him, wish to warm his bed, want to bare his children, all things that only she could do. Jon could see her jealously and her thoughts on her face.

"He hasn't stopped talking or thinking about you, princess, since you arrived in Winterfell," he told her.

She smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Jon."

"I was just saying the truth, princess," Jon shrugged, not wanting to take too much thanks from the princess.

"Even so, it was very kind," she concluded. "I suppose we will see more of each other."

He didn't tell her he was planning to join the Nights Watch for some reason. There was no reason he couldn't tell her. He just didn't. "I suppose."

"Will you be next to Greyjoy at the wedding?" She asked, still confused by bastards and how they were treated in the North. She only knew of how Edric was treated by her family in the Stormlands. Which was exceptional apparently. He even lived in Storm's End.

"No. My presence would offend the nobility, I won't be attending the wedding at all." The statement made the princess's smile fade away. Lyla couldn't understand. She knew that most of her family would not be in attendance because they were in the Crownlands, but she didn't understand why he couldn't.

She raised an eyebrow at that odd statement. "The nobility? Do you mean the king who is known for getting drunk and whoring so much, I have twenty brothers and sisters. Or perhaps the famous knight, my uncle Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer? Or the drunk dwarf, Tyrion. Or the prince and princess who do not quite understand what a bastard is or why they are bad apparently. Or maybe the queen? She might be offended, but my mother would never say it, or it would upset Lord Stark and my father would have words with her. So again, clarify why you aren't there."

She loved her family as any person should love their family. Her father and her had a rather good relationship. She and her uncle Jaime were very close, it was as if he was her personal knight, he even taught her how to ride a horse. She especially got along with Tyrion, she even hated calling him an Imp. Her brother and sister adored their elder sister, and she returned the sentiment. And although she knew her mother's faults, she also loved her mother unconditionally like all children do, her mother protects.

Jon Snow looked at at her and then looked away to continue. "Lady Stark would be offended by my presence. I'm a bastard. I don't sit at their table. She thought it would be best if I didn't go to the feast at all."

She nodded. "My mother hated my father's bastards. When I was six, father tried to bring his bastard daughter from the Eeryie, mother refused to allow her to come to court or for her to be allowed to play with me, so she never came and I have never met her. And least Lady Stark lets you live here and know your brothers and sisters. All five of them."

He nodded, thinking about how he was more fortunate than most bastards. He was recognized, he had siblings who most of them (excluding Sansa) viewed him as a true sibling and not half, and he lived in Winterfell. But still he returned to brooding as he often did.

He realized once again he was a bastard speaking to a princess. This was not the way the world should work. He should get going now. Someone would be offended if the two of them were seen together.

"I should go. Excuse me, princess," he dismissed himself.

"Will you be at the wedding tomorrow?" She called out.

He stopped, but didn't look back at the princess. He didn't know how to answer. They had never really talked about the wedding with him. Though he just assumed he wouldn't be going to he wedding.

"I already told you, I don't think so."

"You aren't going to miss your brothers wedding. I think you should attend." She could see he was about to say something, probably about the two boys being half-brothers, so she grabbed the reigns to her horse to leave. She walked in front of him. "I am princess of the Seven Kingdoms and future Lady of Winterfell, and I want you to to be there for your brother. Okay? If anyone tells you otherwise, just tell them what I told you. Farewell, Jon Snow."

He smiled at her stubbornness. This would not fare well with Lady Catelyn, but he knew he couldn't disobey his princess. He saw Ser Vorian, he wouldn't want to fight The Sword of the Morning, that was a fight he was all but guaranteed to lose. But also he admired how she just smiled at him with kind eyes, the princess seeemed to not care that he was a bastard. If she would one day become Lady of Winterfell, maybe there was a reason to stay. She and Robb would gladly allow that.

But he wasn't going to wait or take that chance. He would leave with his Uncle Benjen to to Night's Watch.

As she prepared to leave another direwolf ran in to play with Ghost, the princess moved aside and watched the two littermates play together.

"Nymeria!" Arya called out, running into the stables.

When she arrived she saw Ghost playing with Nymeria and Jon talking with the princess who she now admired. How could she not admire a woman who managed to defeat a mighty bear with only two arrows. She smiled. The rest of them smiled at the little lady in response.

"Where are you going princess?" Arya asked, noticing the horse.

"For a ride," she responded.

Arya's face lit up. "Can I come?"

Lyla turned Jon with a grin. "I suppose. Ser Vorian will escort myself, it really depends if Jon Snow here would mind escorting you on our ride."

Arya begged her older brother. "Please, Jon."

He sighed, "we come back before anyone notices that you two have been gone for too long."

Both girls cheered as Jon and Vorian got their horses prepared. They left Winterfell quickly and rode through the wolfswood. She remembered Arya and her planned to ride here sometime. It was fun. She and Arya talked the entire time. Arya asked Vorian about his sword Dawn and being a knight, he answered all her questions gladly. Jon just watched the princess, who kept talking with him, wanting to know more about him.

Never would be imagined that a bastard and a princess could ride beside each other like this.


	9. New Gods and The Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla worries the final night before her wedding.

Tonight the noble lords gathered the night before the wedding. They wanted to have a feast for all the lords that had come from every end of the North. The Lannisters agreed to pay for the wedding feast, so luckily they wouldn't spend all of Winterfell's gold preparing for this marriage. Robert wanted to make a large charade of he merging of House Stark and House Baratheon, much like it should have been years ago. This was the wedding of his eldest born.

Lyla dressed in a light blue dress with a white color added underneath to keep her neck warm in the cold of Winterfell's nights. She had a Shaw resting on her elbows that she would wrap herself around in if necessary. Her hair was out, her silky hair went down her shoulders and pass her breasts, she had small thin braids at her head side tied together. On her neck was a small necklace with silver and tiny sapphires, from Tarth given to her by her Uncle Renly for her thirteenth name day. She tried her best to dress like a northerner. The only thing that dress attention was her necklace or her green Lannister eyes.

There was a long table in the front on a higher level, overseeing a pit of tables. On that highest table in the middle would be the King and Queen, with Ned and Catelyn Stark to Cersei's side, and Lyla and Robb to Robert's side. In the tables would be the different noble houses. At the front of the King was the table with the children of Ned and Cat, and the princes and princess.

The families had to be escorted. First came in the King and the Queen, everyone bowed as they entered. They were shortly followed by the more affectionate Lord Ned and his Ladywife Catelyn. Behind them were the betrothed Robb with his arm linked with Princess Lyla. Then came a swooning Sansa and Prince Joffrey with his pompous smirk on. Then Bran and Myrcella came in together, shortly followed by Tommen and Arya, you could see on Arya's face she didn't want to be escorted. Once they were at their seats they all sat down and the feast soon began.

Lyla sat slowly, she occasionally turned to Robb and they shared a glance and grin before turning their own ways. She wanted to talk to him, but with their parents beside her, she didn't know what to say to him. She just sat there as the lords greeted them and feasted. The room was loud as they talked, music was played, and laughs bursted. They were all gathered together once again after so many years of being apart. All there for her wedding to Robb Stark, it made her more nervous than before. Leaving her alone with just her thoughts.

As the wedding came closer the more her thoughts started to rage through her mind at every possible way this could go wrong. The most underlining of them all was that she was to marry for her father's politics rather than for any genuine love. With love, she didn't have to be afraid to bare him children, or of their bedding when she would have to give him her maidenhood, or if he would be faithful and protect her. With love she would just know it. No matter how honorable Robb Stark was, she didn't want to take the chance he would truly love her the way her father love Lyanna and resented her mother, she didn't want to be hated by her husband.

But she couldn't talk to anyone about how she felt. She was afraid of someone would this secret. Instead she just endured all the questions that she had been asked or all the comments she had been hearing.

"There's the future Lady of Winterfell!"

"Have you had your dress made yet, Princess Lyla?"

"Oh, Princess Lyla, I'm so glad you'll be Lord Robb's wife some day?"

At one point, it became unbearable. Yes, Robb was good and honest, but he was also someone she was forced to leave her family for and bare children with.

She looked over at Tommen and Myrcella, sitting besides their uncles Jaime and Tyrion, so far away from her acting like a family as she would no longer be apart of. She was besides her father and mother, yet she never felt so far away from her parents. She looked down, holding back her tears, trying to remain stay strong as her mother told her to. She knew no one wanted to see her cry. They wanted to hear her sing and watch her smile as she mindlessly talked about how happy she was.

She already adored the Starks. Especially Arya and Sansa Stark, they were the two she had spent the most amount of time with and she cared very much for the girls. Arya especially. The girl was a northerner in all the senses she had heard of. Wild and short tempered, she was a free spirit that Lyla admired. With Sansa, she almost saw herself. The girl was to marry Joffrey, and leave the North to King's Landing. She was to marry Robb, and leave King's Landing for the North. Only Sansa was in love with the idea of her betrothal.

She looked to Robb who was sipping his wine. He was so handsome, with those curls, that face, and his beautiful eyes that she could stare in for hours on ends. He was a brave man who already saved her life from that bear. Without him being around she would have died in the wolfswood and her family would be mourning her tore bloodied corpse. The idea of other women with Robb made her feel sick, for she wanted him to be faithful to her all his life. She didn't know if he felt the same if he had any conflicting feelings towards her.

"It's a lovely feast, only tomorrow it will be better. There will be dancing, Lyla loves to dance, she is very good. Aren't you, sweetling?" Cersei spoke, turning the conversation to the girl who had been quiet for the whole feast. She turned to the adults looking at her, leaving her thoughts to her reality.

She gave them all a false and assuring smile as she nodded her head to them. "Yes, mother. I haven't danced since Renly's last ball, I am glad to have a partner to dance with."

"Before she watched the boys fight over her until one remained," Robert added, showing them all that her daughter was the fairest prize that the Starks should be honored to have. She knew that she would be well taken care of in the North. With no other family could he have trusted daughter with than Ned Stark's son.

"Father," she muttered, embarrassed about his boasting.

"I hope I will be a good partner, princess Lyla. I was never much of a dancer," Robb spoke up.

"So Robb Stark is not as perfect as they say," she giggled.

He chuckled to himself, "and how might  _they_  be?"

"Arya. Sansa. Jon," she replied.

"How am I not surprised," he scoffed to himself noting all three siblings, especially Jon Snow for some reason.

Catelyn wanted to change the subject once she heard the mention of her husband's bastard. She turned to the lovely princess who was to be her daughter-in-law very soon. She smiled at the girl. "How are you faring in the North, princess? I hope the incident in the woods did not frighten you too much."

Lyla shook her head, "no, my lady. It's just given me a sense of awareness, this is not King's Landing. Either way, Winterfell is magnificent, lady Catelyn. In my sixteen years I have seen nothing like this castle."

Catelyn smiled kindly at the princess who was already preparing herself to be Robb's wife. She understood what must have been going through her mind. To be in such a strange place, where they had different gods than what Lyla and Cat learnt and prayed to, where the people and customs were different. Much more grim. She could see the girl would make a fine lady and an excellent wife to her eldest son and mother her first grandchildren, and she wanted many of them.

"I am glad to hear that," Catelyn nodded.

Cersei frowned at the mention that her daughter was enjoying Winterfell. What if her daughter grew to like the old castle? Or even love this Stark wolf?

"Sweetling, do you have a song request you would like me to place for you?" Cersei asked, tired of the music they were playing, she doubted they knew any of the southern songs her daughter was used to.

"If you could, mother.  _The Bear and Maiden Fair_."

"Excellent choice," Robert replied. "The princess had requested  _The Bear and Maiden Fair,_ play it."

As the princess requested, the musicians began to play the song she wanted. Her mother rested back as she heard the song begin, she had heard the song many times in the past. She knew her daughter learnt the song from the streets. Her daughter heard it most likely when walking the streets of King's Landing with Ser Vorian or from her Uncle Renly. Either way, her daughter rested her chin on her hand as she listened to the song.

After some time passed, everyone stopped eating. The party still continued anyways. The princess claimed her stomach ached and she didn't want to dance and upset it, so she just watched and enjoyed the music. The stomach ache was a lie of course, she just wanted to stay at her seat so less eyes were on her, as dancing would atttract more. She did get up to order Joffrey to dance with Sansa, he obeyed and was reluctantly dancing with Sansa Stark. She smiled to herself about how happy the red haired maiden was.

Robb got up to talk with Theon, so he went to the third row and was talking to his friend for a while. She didn't mind. She wished that she had a friend like that she could confined in, she never really had a friend. She was the princess, all she had were family, servants, and her people, but never true friends.

Then her eyes loved to the dance floor where yet again her father was dishonoring her mother in plain view of the woman. He was kissing and griping the bottom of some laughing wench. She looked over at the ache on her mother's face as she sipped her wine. In her green eyes, her daughter could see that even though she had grown to hate her husband, it still hurt every time to see him with another woman like that. Even his own daughter was ashamed of it. But also made her come to a realization from watching it this time.

The two of them were betrothed much like Robb and Lyla were now. She remembered that in her childhood her father was strong, fir, and very handsome. Her mother was still one of the most (if not  _the_  most) beautiful woman in the kingdom. They were together for seventeen years. They were King and Queen. From their marriage he gained the finances of the Lannisters for the realm when needed. They shared four beautiful and healthy children. And yet they hated and resented so much. It was painful to watch.

Whether it was hearing her father hit her mother, listening to him threaten her when she spoke up, listening to her threaten him to what sounded more like a promise than false. He was never rough like that with any of his children. He seemed to ignore her siblings while he was only gentle and playful with her. Or maybe how he humiliated her by constantly going to brothels, or when they went to Estermont for a fortnight and he was sleeping with his cousin, or when he slept with their serving girl at Casterly Rock, or when he wanted to bring Mya Stone to court to act as a lady-in-waiting to Cersei's eldest daughter, or the several bastards he must have sired from his whoring.

She loved her father and mother both. They were both good to her. Her father never mistreated her because she was a girl. He got her a fawn to raise when she was a child, he would pick up when she was a child, and he was always proud of her accomplishments. While her mother was somehow the one who let her affections show more. She would spend a rather lot of time with her, she linked their arms when they walked much of the time, she taught her daughter all she knows, and protected her like a true lioness would.

But she was not delusional enough to pretend to herself that they are in a happy relationship, or even healthy. They were either fighting, threatening, or hurting one another to the point where when they were most happy was when they were pretending the other didn't exist and where someone else (like Lyanna Stark and by rumor Prince Rhaegar Targaryen). She didn't want for the only marriage she would ever have, for the children she would have, to come from a marriage like that. She could almost see herself in that same position.

Then she turned to the Starks. Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn born of House Tully. She remembered that she was originally betrothed to the older brother of Ned, Brandon Stark, before his untimely death. Instead the two were wed so she may still become Lady of Winterfell. The two had been together almost the same amount of time as her own parents. They had five children together. They had the North to themselves. Yet somehow she could see the love they had for one another and their children. They were the staple of the best that could come from a political betrothal.

But what if that didn't happen? It didn't always happen after all. She just looked at the examples; her parents, her Uncle Stannis and Aunt Selyse, Lord Hand Jon Arryn and Lysa Arryn, and the best example in all of Westerosi history, Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen. The odds were weighed heavily against her. Could she really take the chances they would be so fortunate?

She started to feel overwhelmed again, she needed to be alone in a quieter room with less people. She stood up, causing the eyes of her mother, Ned, and Cat to come to her as she abruptly stood up.

"Are you alright, sweetling?" Cersei asked.

"I wish to return to my chambers. I want to be well rested for tomorrow," she replied cleverly.

"Sleep tight," Cersei whispered to her daughter.

"Sleep well, princess," Ned told her, she nodded with a smile at the couple before she walked down the steps and pass the crowds quickly.

She first walked my her siblings that called for her to come to them, only she didn't want to. She wanted to leave as fast as possible. She walked passed Robb who looked at her as if he was worried about her, he wanted to maybe say something to her but he didn't say anything to her as he watched her leave. She was moving very quickly as she managed to leave through the entrance without much people taking a notice at how fast she was moving during her exit.

This time the next night she would become someone's property, men would grab and rip her clothes as they groped her untouched body, and then bring her to be painfully defiled to carry a child and possibly die of childbirth as many women do. The very thought of losing those who she loved so much for this place, not matter how amazing she thought new cultures and locations were, she was a southerner, she would never belong here. She was terrified of everything, she felt her eyes well up, she had not cried in a long time, she didn't want to cry about this.

She wanted to run away. But she knew that she would be found; her father and Lord Stark would hunt her down to Essos if they had to. She didn't want to run away, she wanted to think to herself. She couldn't go to her bedroom. She knew in a few minutes her mother would have gotten up, gone to her room to talk with her. She couldn't tell her what happened. She decided to try and go somewhere no one would have expected her to be.

That was how she found herself sitting against a weirwood tree in the godswood. She wanted to cry, she really wanted to cry, but she promised her mother she wouldn't want to cry because no one wanted to hear her tears or her comments. She instead breathed heavily as she sniffled quietly, wrapping herself in her white shawl to warm herself from the cold northern weather. The carving in the tree scared her and she was afraid to be there. Maybe if she stayed there though, she could dig a hole in the ground and just lie there forever. She'd never have to get married.

Then her silent sniffling was interrupted when she heard footsteps approaching her. She stopped and sat up trying to look around to see who was there.

"Lyla, is that you? What are you doing here?"

Robb stood a few feet away from her. When he looked down at her being bathed in nothing but the light of the moonlight, on her fair skin that glowed and her green eyes that were glossed from tears that had not fallen. She was beautiful. The subtle and gentle beauty he had not seen yet. He could clearly see something was wrong.

He walked closer slowly as to not startle the girl. She was trying to appear to be a lioness her entire visit, but she was letting them see that it wasn't exactly so. He sat down besides her and just remained silent as he looked at the girl who was looking down at her hands in shame. Their shoulders brushed against each other, he grabbed her arm with one of his hands and lightly shook it.

"You shouldn't be here. It's too late, you won't be able to find your way back," he scolded.

She kept her head down to avoid his gaze. "Sorry," her voice quivered when she spoke, and shifted to better see her face, confirming something was wrong.

He took took her face in his hands and turned it so he could look into her eyes. She swallowed thickly and sniffled when she saw the concern in his light blue eyes. He was always worried about her for some reason. His hands softened on her cheeks, but kept them there.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

She swallowed again, and placed her hands over his so she could take them off her face and hold them instead. "It's silly," she dismissed.

He squeezed her hands. "I don't care. What is it?"

"I just-" she didn't know where to start, but she knew that she had to be honest with him if she would be his wife the next night. "I don't want to get married just because my father says it'll be better for his politics. I feel like some animal that got shipped off somewhere for someone to ride."

Robb nodded his head slowly understanding. He had to admit that he didn't want to be married so young. He didn't want to take a wife. Yet here he found himself seated with a sad princess and all he wanted to do was provide her with comfort. "Is there something I can do? Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Oh gods no. You're perfect. I just hate that I have to get married for an alliance and not for love," she sniffled one last time before her eyes cleared up.

He sighed and rubbed his thumps against the back of her hands, calming her. She loved the feeling of his smooth thumbs soothing her skin. He looked at her calmed face as she just looked at his face. He wanted to tell her how much she intrigued her or how he felt about her and that he believed that they could be happy together. But for some reason he didn't.

He let go of her hands. He stood up and held out a hand to held Lyla up. She stood up, she was shorter than him that he could just look down into her eyes. He pushed back some of her lose hair while looking at those eyes. She wanted to thank him for comforting her. He always knew when to come somehow to know how to make her feel better. In the tombs, or saving her in the woods.

"I'm sorry, Lyla. I am. But I promise I'll try my best you make you happy." She smiled at his promise. She knew that a Starks word was one that he would try to preform to his dying breath. He placed his hand on her cheek to look her in the eyes so should could know that he was telling the truth to her. "I swear by the old gods and the new, I'll be the best husband you could ask for."

"Don't swear to the gods," she told him, placing her hand on his hand that was on her cheek. She looked at him with a kind grin. She was usually comforted by empty promises, of which she never believed. King's Landing was filled with liars, schemers, and backstabbers. No one had honor or honesty, not even her own parents could be trusted sometimes. It felt good to finally trust someone. "I trust your word."

"Then I give you my word," he whispered, leaning close to the princess. She leaned up to be tall enough to reach him. He used the hand cupping her cheek to pull her into their first kiss.

Lyla had never been kissed on her lips before. She had only been kissed on her hand or on other locations of her face such as her cheek or on her forehead. She was no sure how she was doing, but Robb lead the kiss so well that she melted into the kiss, following his lead. It was sweet and innocent until they pulled away for air. The gap between their bodies was closed, and Robb rested his forehead on Lyla's while they breathed slowly.

Her heart was beating so loud she could feel it in her ears, her face starting to warm with a light blush, she was shaking just a bit as she felt her stomach feel light. The feeling was like no other one that she would never felt before. He traced her cheek either his hand before they trailed down from her face to meet with his other hand on her waist. She placed her hands on his shoulders as he stared into her eyes longingly.

They leaned in and kissed again passionately this time, but Robb tried to keep it innocent enough to not tempt himself. He had been riddled by temptation too much since first seeing her. After a while she began to feel light headed and pulled away. She pulled away a bit, knowing that she should be going to sleep soon.

"Thank you," she whispered.


	10. Wolves and Stags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Stark and House Baratheon are finally united.

It felt like an eternity was waiting for the merging of houses Stark and Baratheon with a marriage alliance. Today they would wed Lord Robb and Princess Lyla.

The two were born heavily desirable matches in the seven kingdoms as heir of Winterfell, soon to be Warden of the largest kingdom, and of course the firstborn princess of Robert Baratheon. Of course they were all rejected as no one was good enough for the two according to their father's (or Robert at least) and the idea of their betrothal had been around since her birth and made official when they were of nine and eight.

Robb was offered Yara Greyjoy as a show of good faith, a short offer of Margaery Tyrell, Dacey Mormont, Meera Reed, Wylla Manderly, Greatjon Umber's children, a Frey girl, Jonelle Cerwyn, Beth Cassel, Jeyne Poole, Bethany Blackwood, and Alys Karstark. Ned was never interest in organizing betrothals for any of his children. At age six Alys was brought to meet Robb, but he knew Robert would outrage as he always wanted their children to marry. After meeting Lyla, he finally agreed.

Lyla was suggested for Loras Tyrell, Lancel Lannister, Robin Arryn, Oberyn Martell though he was much too old and it was just a suggestion, Trystane Martell, Edric Dayne, Dickon Tarly, Harry Hardying, and even more from Essos and other vassals, Robert never paid attention because he knew that they were not necessary as she would be Lady of Winterfell one day. He had been telling her that since she was five she would be the Lady of the land of Snow and magic.

Despite all that and all the time and planning that went into their betrothal, there was never a better time for them to be married. Bond their families in a time with so much grief and strife. Soon followed by another betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey and Ned Stark becoming the new Hand of the King. This wedding would be the start of the a great alliance.

All were in the godswood in two aisles waiting for the wedding to commence. At the front was a septon, as Cersei demanded it be performed in her family's faith, but would still be viewed by the Old Gods. Robb stood at the front holding a Stark cloak for his bride. The guests were all holding candles as per the northern tradition to light the woods. The Starks and northerners were at one end, while the royal family and their party were on the other end. The septon began the ritual by reciting several prayers to the audience, reading from  _The Seven-Pointed Star._ After the prayers they all turned to wait for the bride.

Out of sight Robert was with his daughter who was in a lovely white grown with golden trim. Her sleeves were longer than they needed to be, there was golden ties for her corset in the front, lace design, and a bit of cleavage exposure with her dress. She had an emerald and gold necklace. She had a golden headband that held her hair up with the front having loose hair down her shoulders. She was a beauty and the vision of both her houses and a true beauty the whole North would be allowed to see. Though when Robert looked at her, she was still the same baby he came home from that hunt to.

"Who knew that someone as dishonorable of a man like myself could have a daughter so kind and beautiful," he commented, cupping her cheek. He looked down at his daughter and remembered when she was eight years old, when he first told her she would be married to Robb Stark. She asked a million questions. They planned to have her fostered in the North, only Cersei shut down the plans before they could. "I'm so glad I didn't drink and whore myself to death before I could manage to see you off to a good husband. I hope you know."

She knew that was his way of telling her how much he loved her, she smiled at him confessing how much he cared about his daughter on her wedding day. She nodded her head. "I know that, father. I already care and trust Robb. Thank you." He smiled and kissed her forehead before wrapping her in a Baratheon cloak.

"Come on. They're all waiting for you, Lyla." And with that they linked arms and turned to walk down to the crowd that all turned their heads to watch the King with his crown on his head walking with his princess.

Robb turned slowly as he heard everyone shuffle and her footsteps as she approached the septon and groom. When Robb got to see his bride, he couldn't imagine she could look so beautiful with her black hair that was curled and sept up. The cold made her cheeks a bit more flushed and moonlight complimented her again as it did the other night. She was delicate and beauty incarnate in her dress, as if she should be the one who he should have been worshipping instead. And she was all his.

Robb and Lyla were standing in front of each other when Robert stopped in front of him. His daughter turned, and he took off her family's cloak that was the only thing that keeping her warm. She looked at her betrothed who gave her a look of sincere affection and as well as some lust. She blushed in contempt. It still felt so odd that she was to be married on that day. Though she was glad to give herself to him.

Robert kissed Lyla's cheek and moved to stand with his queen as Cersei looked heartbroken. He held her candle for her so he could see them a bit better. She stood in front of Robb with her back turned to him awaiting the septon to begin so she could be cloaked and become a part of the Stark family by marriage.

The septon turned to Robb who was fairly new with the traditions his mother and father had been working him through for this day. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Robb placed his cloak over her shoulders, when he did so she looked at her family that would still and always be her family. She looked at Myrcella and Tommen who watched with solemn faces, this was the first wedding that they had ever been to. Joffrey looked very hateful with a pleased smirk as if he wanted to believe that Robb would rape her that night. Her mother gave her a smile to mask the pain she felt about giving away her eldest daughter that day.

Either way, she stood tall. She was proud to have the chance of marrying the heir of Winterfell, to be a Stark.

The septon continued to preform the ceremony. "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Robb and Lyla then stood side by side. The septon then proceeded to tie a ribbon in a knot around their joined hands, symbolizing their union. While tying the ribbon, the septon said, "let it be known that Robb of House Stark and Lyla of House Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." Then when he finished her kept it on their hands and continued his announcement, "in the sight of the Seven and the Old Gods, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." Then he unraveled the ribbon, metaphorically joining them together for the rest of their lives.

The septon then commanded, "look upon each other and say the words."

Lyla and Robb turned to each other; keeping their eyes on each other as they were to begin to say their words.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers/his, and she/he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

With this there was only one last thing they needed to do to make this wedding ceremony complete. Robb placed his hand on her cheek, never breaking contact with his new wife as he makes his proclamation.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love."

With that he leant down and kissed her the same way that he did the previous night when he kissed her for the first time in her life. He almost couldn't hold himself back as he kissed her passionately but but it short because there was an audience in front of them. He had been waiting a fortnight, he could wait a bit longer for his princess, for his wife. When they pulled away she smiled at him as they turned and the people applauded their new marriage and the merging of their houses.

 

* * *

 

Most do the lords were completely smashed and laughing and screaming loudly in joy. Arya was trying to stuff as much as the good food they had been saving for the wedding into her mouth that she could. Sansa was quietly enjoying her lemon cakes, Joffrey's smirk was completely gone when he noticed that she was happily dancing with her new husband. Theon was smashed as well, as he sat next to Jon Snow who just admired how lucky he was to be there because of the princess.

This was not how she imagined her wedding night to be. She supposed she was luckier than most people could be. Robb was handsome and the feast that followed was rather enjoyable as Robb began to dance with his new wife who he never took his eyes off his new wife. She was the most perfect woman in the whole world and she was all his now. He was the only one in the Kingdoms that would ever have her. He only knew her for a fortnight, yet he was infatuated with her.

While they danced Robb looked at his wife who was lost in her own thoughts once again:

"Are you alright, Lyla?" He asked.

She smiled at him and kissed his lips quickly. "Perfect."

He smiled back at her, completely taken away by the princess. Since he arrival in Winterfell, how she teased the boys in the yard, stood up to the crown prince, how compassionate she payed her respects to Lyanna, her curiosity in the woods and when she killed a bear, her fierce and witty attitude, and her overwhelming sense of loveliness. Even dancing she moved slowly with him.

Her new husband kissed again, only this time slower and longer. He was relieved that his wife was his and he could now kiss her anytime that he wanted to. Her pink lips were the softest. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Lady Stark." He pulled away and looked at we delicate features as she gained a tiny grin as he called her by what was going to be her name and her title, it sounded good.

Just as he was about to kiss his wife again, he turned and noticed his father trying to gain his attention. He knew he was meaning for this part to end soon, which only meant it was a matter of time before they could sleep away to their marriage bed or wait for someone to call out for a bedding ceremony that they didn't want. Robb didn't want anyone touching his wife and Lyla would slap any woman that touched Robb.

"Lets go," he whispered in her ear.

She was a bit nervous as she remembered that the marriage wasn't official until they bed. She swallowed and nodded. "Lets."

"You go ahead, make yourself comfortable. I'll be there soon, I just have to speak to my father first."

"Alright," she moved aside as he walked over to the table with his parents.

Lyla watched them talk as Ned and Cat looked over at their new gooddaughter. Well, she would be once Robb officially bedded her now that they were wed. They both were very proud people, yet they looked at the girl who would have to carry their grandchildren. She knew not of what a happy marriage looked as.

She knew three marriages she viewed closely, all arranged such as her own for the better of the realm; her mother and father, Lord Hand Jon Arryn and Lady Lysa, her Uncle Stannis and her Aunt Seylse. Her mother and father only spurned and ignored one another, when they were together for long enough it was dangerous. Lysa and Jon seemed to ignore one another. She knew her Aunt Seylse was driven mad by her many stillbirths.

Though when she looked at their smiling faces at her as they spoke to their son of something that must have been important. Thy had five children together, all were kind and good children. None bad or cruel. The two seemed very happy with one another despite the one time he was unfaithful. She wondered if she and Robb would always be as happy as they were now. Her mother mentioned she loved King Robert for a while until she saw his true colors. She wondered if that would be the case. Catelyn had a mother's smile. Ned's face was stern as ever, though it looked as if he accepted her for his son. She prayed to the gods they would be like them.

She turned away before she could look at anyone else. She thought of everything else that would follow. It felt like the eight years they had been waiting for one another, a promised that soon to be brought to light since her father was promised to Lyanna Stark. She felt the new weight of being a wife, of being a lady....of being a mother one day. To be dedicated and faithful to her husband, give him all and abandon all she knew for all that he would give her. Being a princess had no duties besides looking beautiful and keeping her thoughts to herself. And being a mother seemed dangerous, so many born stillborn, miscarried, or the mother passed in childbirth. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

She left slowly as to not draw attention, but of course she did anyways. She was the only one in light vibrant colors, a gown of bright white and gold. All eyes were constantly on her. Watching her move gracefully and composed as always. She had to be. Project grace and beauty always, a reputation she had been keeping since she was twelve years old that she wore proudly. She knew a good reputation was always key to how she would be perceived by the realm and its people.

Then she thought about how this night could determine her relationship with Robb Stark for the rest of their marriage. If he would be dissatisfied by her, and being bedding whores. If he would fall passionately in love with her and wish to never leave her bed again. Maybe he would even sire their first child that night. Robb was sired on his father and mother's first night, Jon Snow must have been sired the first time, she was also sired in the first night. She might be with child sooner than she would have expected.

She left the room and sways from their eyes. She walked lower and like a normal woman instead of her back straightened as if she was above them all. She could hear them continue to celebrate as she exited. She walked to where she knew their bedchambers would be. Their martial bed where he would take her maidenhood.

_"I wonder if he'll turn into a wolf when he takes your maidenhood, sweet sister."_

She opened the door to her room and saw something in the corner move. She opened he door further to see a direwolf sitting there. Her mouth hung open a bit in surprise and a bit of fear, as she did not know much of the direwolves except they were dangerous and kept as pets by the Stark children. This one had to have been the one that belong to her new husband. She couldn't remember what he decided to name it. She never asked and she had never seen him.

She just watched in fear what it would do if she came or approached him. She waited for the wolf that just stood there watching her. He didn't growl but he did make noises. She remembered Jon's direwolf that she spent the second most time with (most time with Nymeria) was always quiet and never made a noise oddly. It was just watching her to see what she would do, much like she was doing with him. She turned behind her and walked in, closing the door.

She slowly walked to the the other side of the room, keeping her distance. She listened to the warm fire roar and at the candles that helped light the dark room just a bit. She watched the wolf move closer to the girl. She breathed slowly and waited for him to come to her. She was afraid of she moved too much he would assume she would want to attack her. She let the wolf stand in front of her. It started to smell her. She thought how kind he seemed. She reached out and touched his head rubbing him. He seemed to enjoy it before leaving to sit at the fur rug. She watched as she laid down calmly.

 _Wolves are nothing to fear, dear brother,_ she thought with a smirk, remembering how her brother taunted her.

She looked around and thought about how she wanted to get ready for her husband. Should she stay the way she was so he could undress her himself? Should she strip herself down the way the men should? Lay down on the bed and await for him to climb on top of her, claiming her as his in the eyes of the gods. She wouldn't have much time to decide what she wanted to do for him. She just knew she wanted to please him and make it clear she wasn't his property but that he was equally hers as she was his. Be a lioness and make her wolf howl.

She took her hair down and removed the pins in her hair, allowing the black hair down her back. She ran her fingers through it slowly. She took off her emerald necklaces and placed them in her jewelry box. It was too expensive to lose and feared the servants would steal them. People in Winterfell did not wear jewelry often. Then she moved back to the bed and began to untie the laces in front of her dress, pulling at the sides so her dress became loose. Then she stopped when she heard the door open, she turned to see her husband.

Robb watched her quietly before turning to his wolf that stood up for its master. "Grey Wind," he called to the direwolf, sending it out of the room so he could have some privacy with his new bride when he bedded her. He closed the door and locked it for absolute privacy with her. She kept her eyes on him. He took off the furs and cloaks he was in, never breaking eye contact.

He looked at her with those beautiful blue eyes, those eyes that were the first thing she noticed. The color of a clear sky when the storms had passed. The color of the clear waters of the Trident or Tarth, she couldn't decide which water was as beautiful as the color of his eyes . Only when she looked at them now, they seemed darken by pure lust. She bit her bottom lip as she felt his eyes stare at her body hungrily as he saw her dress begin to undo.

She was about to say something. She wanted to ask him a question or just tell him how she was feeling now. How she was comfortable with him. She trusted him. That she was a bit scared to lose her maidenhood. Before she could say anything to him, he silently walked over to her, looking down at his bride. She looked up at him with patient eyes for him to say or do something.

His hand went to her waist and gripped her dress, he felt the fabric while he listened to Lyla breath steadily, so close to him. He moved a hand to her cheek, lifting up her cheek to look at him, before kissing her once again.

He had given her four kisses before, all of them were sweet and innocent as he didn't want to push her. But this time he wasn't holding back as he gave her a passionate kiss, moving Lyla's arms that wrapped around his neck instinctively. They pulled away for air before she finally made a move and kissed him. He poked her soft lips with his tongue and she parted her mouth for him. Their tongues fought briefly for dominance, but feeling his strong hands on her hips made it clear who would be in control this first night. He went slow however, painfully slow, but ever so passionate.

Lyla's hands moved to his tunic, she started to pull it over his head. He pulled away and slowly pulled down her white wedding gown. It easily fell to the ground, exposing her body to him as she stood there in her boots she quickly kicked off. Her husband simply stared at her naked body. She felt so exposed as the cold Northern air hit her nude body. He came closer and held her bare hips. Her fair skin was soft and smooth. She had gentle curves where they should be. Her breasts where not very large, by the perfect size and were form. He placed another hand in her soft locks of dark hair. He kissed her again, those soft pink lips of hers.

He pulled away and whispered into her ear, "I married the most beautiful woman in Westeros." She felt herself blush at the compliment she had heard a lot, though she never believed it as much as she did now.

She moved her arms and removed his tunic, dropping it to the floor like he did with her gown. She stared at his impeccable body underneath the many layers he wore. She felt herself bite her lip, moving her hand to rub his chest, the muscles. He practically groaned at feeling her touch him, seeing her was too tempting to not take her, but he wanted to go at her rate.

Lyla kissed his jaw. She knew nothing of sex, her septas and mother only top her to lay down on her back. She wanted to please her husband. She wanted to hear him groan and moan. Much to her satisfaction, rubbing his chest and kissing lightly on his jawline was working. Her lips moved and she kissed his neck, her hand moving slowly lower down his chest to his waist where she started to take off his pants. He practically growled as her had grazed his crotch.

He grabbed her legs, which made her jump up as he wrapped her legs around his waist. She barely had time to look at him before he connected their lips again into a hungry kiss. She moaned quietly, which was not good enough for Robb. He planned to have her screaming that night. He placed her onto the bed and got on top of her, pulling down his pants as he kissed her neck in return. She continued moaning.

Once he freed himself of his pants, they were both lying on their marriage bed naked as their name days. He looked at her beautiful body while their looked at one another. She was his this night. He didn't think he would have ever wanted anything or anyone like this. He remembered not more than a fortnight ago he was complaining about how he didn't want to marry the princess. He wish he could tell himself what an idiot he was to complain about Lyla. She was a fine wife.

He kissed her neck and trailed the kisses down to her breast that earned him a moan and arched her bac a bit to move him back to his breast. He moved one hand to one of her breasts and cupped it gently, rubbing the nipple as it hardened at his touch. He moved his hand to the other and kissed it before sucking on her breast. She moaned at his touch and feeling him on her breast. No one ever told her that sex could be so pleasurable on her behalf. She could tell he was enjoying himself, feeling him grow harder on her thigh.

His hand moved from her breast to in between her legs. She gasped as she felt him at her wet folds. He had this almost satisfied smirk on his face that was riddled with lust. Lyla wondered if he had ever done any of this before. Had he been experienced? Or was this his first time lying with a woman? She was far too flushed to bother asking him. He stuck a finger in her, she was tight as they said maidens were. She moaned as her back arched as he pumped his finger in her silk folds. She bit her lip to keep herself from moaning loud enough for all to hear. Though when he thrusted in another finger she let out a loud moan.

He continued to pump in fingers in and out as she moaned aloud. He kept kissing her neck, sucking and bring that would leave marks. She moaned and breathed heavily at the new sensations that went through her body she had never felt before. She had heard about how men and women touched themselves, but she was a princess, she never touched herself. Never. Yet there was something so completely breathtaking by being touched by Robb. She felt her whole body burn warm.

"Robb," she moaned.

He knew she was coming close, but he still hadn't bedded her. He could feel how ready she was. He was so hard it was almost painful.

He pulled his finger out from her and climbs on top of her, one hand rested on her waist and the other holding her hair as kissed her passionately again. He pulled away and looked down at his beautiful wife. He hardly knew her, yet he was already very taken by her. Looking her in the eyes now, she was all he wanted in the moment. Listening to her breath heavily with those lovely green eyes focused on him. She kissed him to reassure him that she was ready to be his, no matter what pain would come, she only wanted to have him inside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and spread her legs widely for him to properly position himself between her long legs. He held her waist. He placed the lip at her slick folds, slowly pushing the head inside, causing her to throw her head back and whimper in pain, her back arched, Robb stopped to allow the maiden to expand. She was very tight. She had light tears at her eyes that did not fall as she waited a bit longer to let Robb continued, he leaned down and kissed her to make it feel better. Soon enough the pain diminished a bit.

She nodded her head for him to continue. He lifted her legs up a bit as he began to push himself in and out slowly, she felt hinges of pain as she felt a bit of maiden's blood come out, proof the marriage was consummated. Soon enough the pain faded into a large amount of pleasure. She moaned a bit as he thrusted into her.

"Robb," she said lightly, gaining his attention. He picked up the pace and started to thrust harder and a bit faster.

He hands moved from his shoulder to his back that she dug her nails into, likely to leave scars. He didn't care, he was too lost in his lust, groaning and listening to his princess moan as he thrusted relentlessly into her. He tired to keep eye contact with her, but she was barely able to keep her eyes open as she approached her high.

"Robb!" She screamed out his name. Something was so satisfying about hearing her scream his name as she approached her first orgasm. Only he had ever or will ever hear the sounds she made.

He thrusted her a few more times until she let out a final loud moan as she reached her climax and came. She felt like her body was burnt out, it felt so good and she  
came down from a high like no other. He thrusted into her a couple of times before he came as well. He leaned down to his wife who he bedded, they were man and wife from now and forever. He leant forward and gave her a sweet and somewhat sloppy kiss on the lips before pulling out and rolling next to her.

Robb pulled up the furs and covered themselves. Lyla placed a hand on her stomach, wondering if on this night she too would be gifted with a child. She didn't put much thought into it, instead she crawled and placed her head on Robb's chest, wrapping her arms around him to hold her. She felt so comfortable sharing her bed in this way. She only ever slept in the same bed with one other person, she only cuddled with one other person. That was her mother. But it was different than the way she had Robb hold her. She felt differently about it. She closed her eyes and started to drift off to sleep as he rubbed her back.

For the first time, she didn't sleep alone.


	11. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the wedding, a horrible accident occurs.

Lyla woke up in the morning on top of Robb's chest. He was holding her, and he was too strong for her to simply move away from them. She didn't want to wake him up from his rest either. Maybe because when they left, things would change a lot. In four days her family would be leaving for King's Landing. She was now wedded and bedded to Robb Stark. With Lord Stark planning to go south to act as Hand of the King, he was taking Arya, Bran, and Sansa with him. She almost wanted to close her eyes so they could sleep there silently for as long as they could before being noticed.

She looked around the room, it looked different than the room they had prepared for her and her family. It was as if they made these rooms more southern as a way to make them seem more comfortable, the work of the southern Lady Catelyn to make them feel more comfortable in the harsh North. Though she didn't mind being in this place. In all fairness she didn't feel very at home in King's Landing either. She stood out of all her siblings with her black hair when they were all born with their mother's blonde hair. Her father hardly paid attention to her. She was often alone. Most of the people liked her for her beauty.

He rubbed her bare back while he groaned, waking up. Lyla kept her eyes fixed on his handsome fast as he rested. His strong jawline, his gentle curls on the pillows, his face was clean shaven. She rubbed his jawline on instinct while resting on her elbow. He looked so at peace when he was sleeping. She felt his breathing pick up as he started to wake up. She moved away a bit worried that she had woken him up. His eyes opened slowly as he looked down at the woman who this morning was his wife. He smiled a bit to himself.

"Morning," Lyla whispered, with a large smile showing her bright teeth to him.

He smiled at his wife. Waking up the the sight of her as she rested on his chest. "Good morning, Lyla."

She felt embarrassed as she remembered she was bare. She had no reason to be bashful, she was no longer a maiden. She was a wife. Yet she felt like all her courage the previous night, her first night with her husband. She wondered if she was already with child, although her septa said it could take time before she would be with child. She was glad. She still needed time before she could be a mother. Being a wife was strange enough.

"We should break fast soon," he suggested. It seemed like his eyes were wondering down to her chest which she was trying to cover with a sheet. "Or..."

"We could stay here a bit longer," she stated, rolling onto her back resting the back of her head in the crook of his neck.

 _To believe I spent years dreading the day I would be his wife. Maybe being the wife of Robb Stark is not as bad as I first imagined it would have been._ She lightly traced her fingers as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  _And Winterfell is nice. The Red Keep is beautiful. But father says everyone in city is a liar, schemer, or arse-licker. And King's Landing smells of smoke, sweat, and shit. Winterfell is cold, but small. And I am already fond of these Starks._

Robb held her and rubbed her waist, her long pale back as the morning light filled the room. They would have to wake up to greet those who would want to congratulate them, to break their fast, and he had to take care of Grey Wind he had leave their room. Which reminded him that he would have to make sure Lyla was comfortable with Grey Wind. He was glad that Lyla was fine being here now. He had grown fond of her.

"That's long enough," she tells him when she felt if she is about to fall asleep again. "Come on, love, I am famished." Then she pecked his lips and sat up.

Once she sat up, she knew she was going to have to stand up and show her naked body so she could reach her small clothes and a blue dress that was waiting for her. She held the fur close, as if she was nervous to let Robb see her body. She was not a bashful maiden. He had already seen her without garments hiding her. Why did she continue to feel the need to find her body from him. Although she could see him stare at her pale back as her black hair was swept in front.

She stood up.

Her black hair cascades across her back. When it was not brushed out, it was left in a few soft waves. She moved quickly to place on her small clothes that Robb had  _so_   _graciously_  thrown across the room in his haste. She felt like a fool crawling on the floor to grab them. She heard him chuckle, so she sent him a quick glare as she put the small clothes back on before she bothered to turn to him. He soaked in her beauty and her womanly body, her slender frame, buxom, and fair skinned. She smirked and giggled under her breath.

"Robb, you should spend much less time watching me and instead focus on getting changed. I can't get ready for the day if you keep staring at me," she giggled.

"I can't help it, Lyla," Robb stated with a grin.

"I am your wife now, you'll have me plenty of time, for now I am starving. I will go ahead to eat without you, love, if you do not hurry out of bed."

He stood up as well, she adverted her gaze to give him privacy as he walked over to get changed. She turned and caught a glance at him, she bit her lip as she walked over to her dress and quickly threw it onto her body. She straightened out the dress and patted down the skirt as she inspected how her body looked. She knew it was not likely, but it was possible that she was already carrying her first child. She would have to wait and see when it would happen. She was in no rush to be a mother. She still found it so odd that she was a wife.

She slipped on some brown boots for the hard grounds of how she walked on the outsides of Winterfell's courtyards. She walked over to a small mirror that was provided her as she played with her hair to make it more presentable as she did not have her ladies there to braid it or style in whatever fashion they thought she would like most. She quickly grabbed her lioness necklace made especially for her, there were only three in the world (her mother's, Myrcella's, and hers). She then tied on her cloak with the white fur in her shoulders.

 _If this is the summer cold in Winterfell now, I wonder how I will ever survive winter's here,_ she wondered.

She turned and watched Robb finished getting dressed. He buttoned his top then grabbed his own furs and cloak as well. She smiled as she admired how handsome he was. Her cousins (who acted as her ladies-in-waiting, who would all then return to Lannisport at the end of this visit) had been gossiping like hens at how handsome Robb was, and what he would look like with his beard. Those dark curls and his eyes the color of a clear sky. She was glad those girls would be leaving. She didn't like how they clucked about him when they thought Lyla was not listening to them. She didn't need attendants anymore. None of the northern ladies had them. And she was the future lady of Winterfell.

"Are you ready to go, Lyla?" He asked, turning to her.

"Of course, Robb," she nodded, walking over to him and accepting his arm to walk her out of their room.

Outside their door was waiting for them Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind, who must have missed sleeping at the foot of Robb's bed. Lyla felt a big uneasy to it, as it stared up at her intensely, but it did not attack the girl and instead just simply walked over to be petted by Robb and her. Her husband suggested that Grey Wind must have also been hungry that morning.

As they walked down the corridor together, they talked as Grey Wind walked beside Robb. It was a good morning, but he sun was barely shining through the grey clouds that seemed to constantly hang over the northern sky. She had heard of that story they told of how the sky was blue because they lived in the eye of a blue giant, but that was proven wrong by the constant grey skies of the north. It was all quite peaceful on this more than quiet morn. She could see herself very happy here. Even with her family very far away from her. With all she once knew gone. She could be happy in Winterfell.

Then Theon Greyjoy came running down the corridor when he caught sight of them. He looked as if it had seen a specter or some sort.

"What is wrong, Theon?" Robb quickly asked.

"I was sent to find you, Robb. Bran's direwolf led us to a tower, Bran had fallen out of it. The boy is not waking!"

They all had mortified looks permanently placed on their faces when they learned that Bran had fallen out of a tower. He was such a young boy, Lyla had grown very fond of the boy who always blushed when she ruffled his locks. Robb looked as if his heart broke hearing of his brother's fate. She moved her hand to hold his tightly as she tried to do her best to comfort him in this time of strife. She quickly prayed to the gods to save Bran's life. To her gods, the faith of the Seven, and even Robb's old gods in hopes that one of them would answer her prayers.


	12. The Mother's Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal family return to King's Landing and share their farewells.

Tyrion needed to stop getting drunk all the time when he found himself waking up in a dog pen on what was their last day in Winterfell. Worse of all was that Prince Joffrey, his mutt Clegane, and the dornish Vorian Dayne were all laughing at the imp who woke up feeling the regret of drinking as much as he did.

"Better-looking bitches than you're used you're used to, Uncle," Joffrey snidely commented. Tyrion however, was not in the mood at this early in the morning to already begin his bickering with Joffrey. He would be rid of him for some time as he planned to instead ride for the wall before returning to King's Landing. But it was hard when every word he spoke was absolutely irritating. Why did he have to lose his favorite of Cersei's brood? "My mother's been looking for you. We ride for King's Landing today," he informed him.

Tyrion ignored his words, he envied Lyla. For whatever the North lacked or how hard it was for such a fragile girl, she would be miles far from her poisonous mother and vile younger brother. Of course he could be rid of them too if he had inherited Casterly Rock. But his father still had foolish hope Jaime would leave the Kingsguard and take his place as Lord of the Rock. He would sooner give the seat to Kevan Lannister and his sons before he would let Tyrion be lord.

Thinking of sweet Lyla, who had cried and prayed in the small sept relentlessly like a Septa for the poor Stark boy. She was a kind girl with a large heart. She would weep for anyone, whether her blood or a man she never knew. That reminded him of how little Joffrey seemed to care. Lack of empathy was not good for a king. Even Robert had given his sincerest sympathies. Even Cersei had the decency to feigned empathy for the Starks. But Joffrey smirked and ridiculed as if a young lordling was not laying in his possible deathbed.

"Before you go," Tyrion began, starting to be serious with his pompous nephew, "you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies."

"What good will my sympathies do them?" He asked.

Tyrion couldn't even begin the fathom the idea that this boy would one day be the king of all seven kingdoms.  _Seven hells._ "None. But it is expected of you. Your absence had already been noted."

"The boy means nothing to me," he spat. Vorian looked at him with disgust. The man had a shared hatred of Lannisters and Starks, but his hatred did not extend to the small child who had done no wrong. Tyrion as well did not like how he laughed at the confession that he did not care for a small child who could have died. "Lyla had been crying endlessly. I can't stand the wailing of women." That earned him a good and hard strike across the face from his uncle.

Had he spoken ill of Lyla once more, Ser Vorian may not have been able to contain his fury and would have carved Joffrey like a honey cake. The small simple painful that it sent Joffrey across as he caressed his sore cheek. Vorian almost laughed at how he sounded like a woman when he was hit by Tyrion. He remembered how Lyla hit him for pestering Robb in the courtyard. The boy was too weak, nothing like what is father was once. Even now, Robert was strong and fearless.

"One word and I'll hit you again," Tyrion warned him.

"I'm telling mother!" Joffrey whined.

Tyrion slapped him again for good measure. The once again held his cheek and wailed.

"Go!" Tyrion informed him, "tell her. But first you will get to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service, and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

Joffrey shook his head furiously, "you can't..."

Then he hit the prince once again for good measure to make sure that he had learnt his lesson this time.

"Do you understand?" Tyrion asked once again.

Joffrey left without speaking, he seemed to have finally understand that he would not win this argument. Vorian almost chuckled. The sworn sword had come from Dorne, where Lyla would have been Queen of the seven kingdoms instead of the secondborn Joffrey. Sandor Clegane ignored the dornishman and instead spoke souls to the imp. Neither of the two were very fond of one another for obvious reasons. House Clegane gained most of their prominence for the murder of Elia Martell and her children, before she married Royal she was close friends with all of House Dayne.

"The Prince will remember that, little lord," The Hound warned Tyrion, fully aware of how spiteful Joffrey was.

"I hope so," Tyrion expressed, of course his wit was sharp as always. He did not see Joffrey, the cowardly prince, as a threat. "If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him." He turned and began to walk away.

"Time for breakfast," Tyrion spoke to the dornishman. Never had he met a man so loyal to his cause as this man had been to Lyla and Lyla alone. He did not care for the king, serving his country, personal glory, or even wealth. He wanted to protect Lyla and serve her every need. He was actually fine with the imp. He was less pompous Lannisters, he even had some clever wit to him.

"It was about time someone hit that boy and showed him his place," Vorian stated. "His mother should have done that years ago. I fear it is far too late to change his foul nature. You can't sweeten a rotten apple."

"He is the prince, we should watch who hears us speak ill of him," Tyrion suggested.

Vorian shrugged. "Then I suppose the both of us will be at the Queen's fury at the end of the day."

"Not for very much longer, I suppose ," Tyrion shrugged. Vorian would be staying in Winterfell guarding Lyla for the rest of his days and maybe one day guard the children of Lyla and Robb. Married for less than a week and now they had gone through their first strain with Bran's fall. "You'll the the first dornishman to live this far north. With winter coming, I hope you don't freeze."

"And I hope your sister doesn't have you choked in your bed," Vorian quipped as they arrived at the door to the feasting room where he stood guard like the rest of them men. He had been sent by Lyla to bring Tyrion to have breakfast with them. He had to wait outside for them to finish eating before he could escort Lyla back to her room or to the sept.

As Tyrion walked in he pointed to one of the serving women. "Bread. And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burnt black." He walked up to his family, all were sitting here together. Tommen besides Jaime, Lyla between Cersei and Myrcella. He walked over and lifted a laughing Tommen moving him a bit so he could sit besides Jaime.

"Little brother," Jaime greeted with a grin.

"Beloved siblings," Tyrion said in return, though he only partially meant it. He loved Jaime dearly. Cersei on the other hand... not so much. In fact she stopped speaking with Lyla yo give him a harsh and cold glare.

"Have the maester any new word on Bran's condition, Uncle?" Lyla quietly asked. She had not seen him or spoken to Ludwin. Instead she could only pray and keep to herself. But the thought of that little boy laying there lifelessly plagued her mind. She knew that Tyrion had gone to speak with Ludwin and checked in. Cersei told her daughter to not speak of it to Robb as to not upset her new husband. So she hoped her uncle could help.

He could see the worry in his sweet niece's face. He took a bite and then looked at his younger niece and nephew who both seemed worried about the Stark boy as well. They were all good children that managed to somehow come from Cersei. "Apparently he is better."

Lyla smiled widely, showing her glistening white teeth. That had to have been the first time she smiled since learning of Bran's tragic fall. Myrcella smiled as well and held her sister's hand under the table in glee.

Cersei however was not as gleeful at the news as she turned her head to Tyrion. "What do you mean?"

"The Maester says the boy may live," Tyrion stated.

Cersei and Jaime exchanged odd glances, Lyla watched with curiosity at what they were looking at each other for. They had been acting very strange. Always whispering, glancing, and acting aloof. Lyla once again ignored it as she took another sip of her drink.

Cersei continued. "It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain." She was never one to care about other's children, only her own. Lyla was offended by her words.

"Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray," Tyrion stated. He knew that Cersei never believed in the power of prayer. But he knew that her children still believed firmly in their faith. He would not try and make them as cynical as their mother or even their uncle. Innocence could be retained for a while longer for the younger two.

Lyla held her mother's hand, she knew she did not like this place and that she didn't want to say goodbye to her eldest on this day. "Mother, the charms of the North seem entirely lost on you. Their customs and people, as strange as they may seem to us are actually quite wonderful. I have grown quite fond of the North. As I am sure Uncle Tyrion has." Cersei feigned a smile and rubbed her daughter's hand. The girl could see the good in everything. Even Cersei.

"Indeed so, Lyla," he agreed.

Cersei turned to her brother with the same antagonizing tone she was infamous for. "I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder?" Tyrion asked his older sister rhetorically. She was not one for jokes or to be jester the way that Tyrion often did. "The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the wintry abode of the White Walkers." He tried to scare his nephew, which only made him laugh. Lyla had scared them with the story of White Walkers.

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black," her uncle Jaime spoke up during the conversation.

"And go celibate?" Tyrion seemed baffled by the idea. "The whores would do begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock." This earned an amazed grin from Jaime who turned to their less than amused older sister and her eldest daughter who tried to hide her smile. "I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world," he confessed, making all three children laugh.

"The children don't need to hear your filth," Cersei spat at him, causing all three of her children to cease their laughing. Although one of them was a woman grown and flowered, she was a woman wedded and bedded, perfectly capable of being a mother herself. Though Lyla doubted her mother would ever likely see her as an adult for a very long amount of time. Maybe not ever. She turned to all three of her children with a more warm and motherly look. She held Lyla's hand gently. "Come," she told them, leading them all out of the grating room.

 

* * *

 

Catelyn was seated beside Bran's bed, watching him just lay there as she finished making a wheel of the seven to have them take care of her boy.

She heard patter on the floor until she turned and saw the queen standing at the door looking at them. Catelyn was less than presentable to the queen. As the queen came closer, she placed down the work and stood up to greet the queen.

"Please," Cersei excused her as she looked down at the poor boy who just laid in that bed lifeless.

"I would have dressed, your grace," Catelyn said, regarding her appearance. Her auburn hair a mess, she had not groomed herself since her son fell from that tower, and her dress was that to sleep in and not to greet a queen in.

"This is your home. I'm your guest," Cersei assured her.

Catelyn returned to her seat as Cersei walked closer to get a better look at the little boy Lyla spoke on about.

"Handsome one, isn't he?" Cersei stated looking at the little boy lay there as if he was not breathing. It was all too familiar. "I almost lost my daughter. Lyla, a little black haired beauty. She was a fighter... fought the fever that tried to take her from me." The story she told was too true and it broke her heart to think that she could have lost her little girl. And now she had to that wolf. But she would not dare say that. Catelyn watched in shock. "Forgive me. It's the last thing you need to hear right now."

"I never knew," Catelyn murmured.

"It was years ago, Lyla had just been born. Robert was crazed, beat his hands bloody on the wall, all the things men do to show you how much they care... she always looked so much like him." She thought of her baby girl when she was young. Small enough to rest on her chest. "Such a little thing. I held her in my arms as she shivered and whimpered at the pain. A fortnight or so, she was in agony. I wouldn't let go of her. There was nothing they could do for her. They came to take her from me and Robert held me. I screamed and I battled, but he held me. My daughter. Then that night, she healed. I never knew how. It didn't matter."

She almost shed a tear reliving the thought, but she would not let this woman see her cry.

"I pray to the Mother every morning and night that she return your child to you," Cersei added.

"I am grateful," Catelyn thanked.

Cersei hoped this boy died. He knew too much to continue living. And the Starks had stolen a child from her. Lyla. It was only right that a child of their own would be gone as well. But he would not let Lady Catelyn knew that was how she felt. She only hoped this story would show her how important Lyla was to her, hoping that would help her have better treatment in the North far from her mother's protection.

 

* * *

 

Jon grabbed a saddle and walked down the courtyard to the horse that had been prepared for him, he would finally prepared himself to join the Night's Watch. He never thought of it until his father planned to ride south and his Uncle Benjen came to visit. He knew that Lady Stark was not fond of him in the slightest. With her in charge of Winterfell in her husband's stead, he was not sure how well his life could have been there. Serving the Wall could be something he could do with his life as a bastard. It was beneficial.

He had argued with Lyla, who had many reasons for why he shouldn't join. He was a bastard with no lands or titles, nothing to give any children he could have. This way he would go celibate and never have to worry of children again. And as a bastard, he didn't truly have a place in Winterfell. Robb was heir with a young g wife to give him plenty of sons, he had two younger brother's as well, and Lady Catelyn wanted his head on a platter. This way he could serve his life to something.

Of course Robb walked over to give him a send off. "You said goodbye to Bran?" He asked. He turned to his brother who was yet to answer. Robb however was an optimist. "He's not going to die. I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon replied.

Robb smiled amused by Jon's choice of words. "My mother?" He asked, knowing that they had an anything but warm relationship with one another.

"She was very kind," Jon lied as he placed the saddle on a black horse.

"Good," Robb noted, hoping that was the end of that story. No man wanted to think ill of their mother, but Catelyn's treatment of Jon was always quite cold. Jon turned from the horse to look at his brother for the last time in a very long time. "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."

"It was always my color," he joked with a grin.

"Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark."

Robb and Jon quickly embraced one another tightly, they said nothing while they hugged, but then they quickly pulled away from one another. They had been the closest of companions. Yet they always knew that their journeys were going to take them in different directions. The bastard of Winterfell and the heir of Winterfell. Robb would one day become the Warden of the North, have many children just like their father. Jon instead would give him life to faithfully serve the Night's Watch. They could only hope to see one another again.

Robb walked away without another word, he wasn't sure if it was because he said everything he needed to say or he couldn't think of anything else to say. Jon felt the exact same way. He turned and began to fasten his saddle onto his horse. While doing so, he watched as the Kingsguard and Lannister soldiers were preparing the royal party to ride back to King's Landing that day.

"I'll miss you both so much," Lyla embraced both her younger siblings. Tommen and Myrcella were crying a bit. Lyla did not shed a tear, she needed to be strong for them. She held them close and rubbed their little blonde heads.  She pulled away. "Next time I see you will be at Sansa and Joffrey's wedding."

"Mother says that won't be for a long time," Myrcella stuttered, soon enough she would meet a similar fate having to marry and live in foreign land as well.

"Then you'll have to write me of course," Lyla smiled. The little blonde girl nodded her head in understanding. Lyla turned her attention to the little prince. "Now you two get going before father and mother forget you." They laughed as she batted them away, their maids helped escort them to the wheelhouse that would carry them down the Kingsroad to the Red Keep.

"Be well, niece," her uncle Jaime said, walking by in his white armor. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, which was hard with his armor. But he held her and then whispered a joke, very cheeky, "I hope that the next time I see you, you won't be much of a she-wolf, leave some doe in you." She laughed and pulled away as he walked towards the other members of the Kingsguard.

She looked for her mother so they could bid their final farewells. She knew that her mother would pretend she was alright, but her mother had been talking about how she could always come visit. Although she knew the only next time she could see her mother was during the wedding of Sansa and Joffrey, but that would be a very dark day. She pitied the sweet summer child that had to marry her monster of a little brother.

She watched all the Lannister soldiers in their black and red armor, there were no Baratheon soldiers as well, and none of the guards in Winterfell wore armor. Neither did Vorian, he wore leather to keep himself light on his feet as some of the dornish preferred.

She would miss her mother dearly, but her time of being a small child needed to pass in order to welcome her new life in Winterfell with her husband and as a Stark. She had already stopped being called Lyla Baratheon by some of the Northerners, instead they started to call her Lyla Stark. It was odd. She knew in the North the name meant more than the name of the royal family, she was honored in a way to be considered part of their ancient and noble house. But she was still a Baratheon.

She found her mother leaving the castle, she knew that she had gone to give her sympathies to Lady Catelyn. She knew her mother was not a sympathetic person. Not to the bastard Edric Storm, not to scarred but sweet Shireen, not the barren Lady Selyse, not even her own little brother. But it was best her mother said something she did not mean than nothing at all. Which was what Joffrey was intending on doing,  _unfortunately Uncle Tyrion beat me to 'correct' the prince._ She almost chuckled at the thought.

Her mother walked over with the same smile that she thought was the only one she was capable of. She held Lyla's hands and rubbed them with her thumbs.

"I have been dreading this moment for eight years since Robert said you would officially become Lady of Winterfell when you were grown," her mother began what felt like the thousandth speech she would give her daughter. Lyla had to admit she learned a lot from her mother. To never let herself be oppressed by men, as she is strong. That a woman she never love anyone but her children, as the more she loved the weaker she was. Yet the last one was still odd to her. "Now here we are in this odd country. Tell me, sweetling, are you sure you will be fine here with only a sword to protect you?"

She would be leaving behind her big castle where she could wonder the gardens or sit by the ocean to see the boats. She would not have the company of her ladies-in-waiting. She would no longer have an army of handmaidens to take care of ever thing she needed, even brushing her hair. She would no longer have the escort of assorted knights to protect her when she walked King's Landing whether to an orphanage or the Great Sept of Baelor. No longer have her former army of suitors to fight for her in Tourneys to make her the Queen of Love and Beauty or dance with her. Her life would be much more different.

She looked at her mother with their identical green eyes, she gave her an honest and genuine grin. She knew in her heart that this odd country was not what she had feared, the people were not as fearful, their customs were not so odd, and she was rather fond of the members of House Stark. She knew her mother knew this, she only asked so often because a part of her mother would never want to except that Lyla had grown up, she was no longer a child, no longer her dark-haired babe. She was a woman grown.

She repeated, "I will be fine in the North, mother."

"I know," Cersei confessed, "you strong, sweetling." She looked at Lyla's chest, she grabbed the lioness necklace she always wore around her neck, only it had fallen under her cloak as if it was hidden. She reached out and placed it out for all to see. "Show them how a lioness fairs in the North. Do not let them break you, my darling. You do not belong to them. Not to him. Remember what I told you, Lyla."

She nodded. "Of course."

She rubbed her daughter's soft and fair cheek. Lyla quickly pulled her mother into an embrace. Cersei held her daughter, her hand in the back of Lyla's head, caressing her black locks before she released her.

"Write me soon," her mother simply ordered.

"Yes, mother." With that Cersei walked away to the wheelhouse where her other children awaited.

Lyla fixed some of her loose hair before she prepared to return to her room. Ever since Bran fell from the window, she had to admit she had not been feeling quite to well. She wondered if he would wake up. Her Uncle Tyrion says it it quite possible, her Uncle Jaime claims it is best he pass than live disfigured, and Robb only tells her that he will live and then ends the conversation. She could only wonder how he fell from the window.

She thought of herself selfish. That boy was lying there on what could be his death bed, and she thought of herself too often. Most of her thoughts and prayers had been given to the boy, she would often visit the sept and light a candle for Brandon Stark. Yet it haunted her when she had the horrid thought of how this fall was ruining  _her_ early marriage days. How Robb was not paying attention to  _her_. She thought how she should have confessed her sin of selfishness and take a walk of repentance. Yet that would be odd in the North. So instead she tried to fill her mind with prayers for Bran.

Yet, no matter how many prayers she could make, they would not erase that part of her that always ate away at her. That horrible and selfish person inside of her.

"LYLA," she heard a scream, releasing her from the thoughts she had been lost in once again. She turned her head, making all her straight hair bob with her, to see who had called her name. She knew who the voice belonged to. She had heard it so many times. It was her father. Tall, bearded, and red-faced of course. He was standing besides Lord Stark who he seemed to plan to ride beside. She smiled for them. "COME ON," he ordered her to walk over. Even with a red face, he could scream loud enough for Stannis to hear from his island fortress of Dragonstone.

She obeyed her father, the king, and walked towards them even though the mud in the courtyard of Winterfell was beginning to make the bottom of her dress, end of her cloak, and her nice boots were beginning to dirty. They would be cleaned soon enough. But, she did want to say a farewell to her father. For whatever they man was, he was her father. The same father who insisted she come on hunts, the father who promised her during the Greyjoy Rebellion he would bring her back one of those Greyjoy squids, the same father who protected and loved her with whatever was left of his heart after losing his parents, the love of his life, and now his second father and hand.

The moment she arrived by his side, he pulled her into a tight hug and swung her around off her feet. She squealed and laughed like a child when her father picked her up and swung her the way he did. Sometimes she felt they both treated her like a child, although her father seemed to be the only one who would acknowledge that she was a woman, probably as an excuse to hurry her marriage to Robb Stark. He had been waiting sixteen years. Nonetheless, he hugged her with great strength before placing her on the floor as they both laughed.

"Damn you have grown since the last time I have lifted you that way," King Robert commented, making her laugh, hoping he wasn't calling her fat. Although her father had never been a very conservative person, he would have just told her that she was fat. He told her she was too skinny, too pale, or too boyish. Then it became others mission to correct those mistakes. Now she was too old. Good. "How old were you again?"

"Sixteen, father," she replied.

"Gods, why'd I give you away already?" He asked, making his girl chuckle. "You be good now."

"I will, father," she grinned.

"And if Robb Stark gives you any trouble, your a Baratheon, take care of yourself," he reminded her.

"Of course, father," she nodded. He leaned over and gave her a long kiss on her head. She knew that meant he loved her. He wouldn't say it, but he loved his firstborn in his own way. She smiled sadly as he pulled away, she tried to fight back the tears of saying goodbye to her family. She remembered her sadness when she left King's Landing, a hug to her Uncle Renly who she loved more so than anyone else in the filthy city. He pulled away and raised her face.

"Now go on, we have to go." She nodded her head again and prepared to leave. She turned back to Lord Stark and his brother, Benjen she believed it was.

"Farewell, Lord Eddard and Lord Benjen," she called to them, "I hope the Red Keep and the Wall treat you well, my lords."

"As you, Lyla," Lord Eddard replied.

She bowed her head in respect as she turned and finally left the courtyard.

On her way out she caught sight of Jon Snow on his horse, she remembered he told her that he was planning on joining the Night's Watch. Spend the rest of his life committed to freezing and celibacy. Her Uncle Tyrion claimed he would rather die. But she supposed in a way it was noble to dedicate his life from protecting them from whatever lies beyond the wall. Whether it be wildling raiders or White Walkers.

Her eyes caught his. He looked at her with the same brooding look he always had. She smiled and waved her hand to him. He waved back. She turned her head away from her good brother and returned to the castle.

It was good that she left this day not feeling so wrong. She wasn't sure if she would be alright here in Winterfell, her feelings for her husband Robb were still odd to her and hard to define exactly, but she liked it here. She would be alright here. It was best that she had finally said her farewells to the past, and was finally prepared to finally move on.


	13. Little Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla adjusts to life in Winterfell.

The first thing Lyla missed about her life in King's Landing was her little brother Tommen.

She missed holding him in her arms, running her hands through his blonde hair, singing for him, playing with Ser Pounce the sassiest cat you would ever met, or telling him a story in comfort and joy. Tommen was the sweetest boy in all Seven Kingdoms, she knew it true.

That was why he was the first thing she missed.

First she missed her brother, and thinking of Tommen began to make her miss Myrcella.

Myrcella, who was beautiful, delicate, and courageous. To play dolls with her, brush her blonde curls when she did not like the way her handmaidens did, talk about boys that Myrcella thought were handsome, they would watch the ships, they quite liked the latter.

Thinking of her sweet sister made her think of her mother, maybe because Myrcella looked like a miniature version of the queen. And thinking of mother always reminded her of her Uncle Jaime. Lannisters all looked similar to one another. Her siblings all looked like her mother. So she thought of them all fondly. All of them, with the exception of the repulsive Joffrey.

She then thought of her father, which made her think of her Uncle Renly, which made her think of Edric Storm. They all looked alike. All Baratheons. She thought of her father, her uncles Stannis and Renly, Shireen, and Edric Storm. They all looked similar, much like her. Black haired with blue eyes, only hers were green.

Thoughts of her home and her family began to flood her mind it became almost impossible to sleep in bed at night. She found it hard to eat at meals. Instead she found herself trying to fill the many hours of her days she used to find activities for. Whether they were sitting by the water, talking with her ladies, enjoying a Tourney, walking the gardens, or playing with her siblings. Now she found there was not much to do. She didn't have any one to ride with (she used to do that with her Uncle Jaime), there was not much to read, and she couldn't enjoy watch ships since there was no port in Winterfell.

She mostly spent her time by a candle that she lit, sometimes she would just sit there reading one of the books she kept with her, she would brush her hair, or she would sew herself something. There was not much fun in doing this, but sometimes she would enjoy herself enough to sing a song that her cousin Shireen taught her.

 _It's Always Summer Under the Sea._ It was a fun and musical song. They were the only two in the world who could sing it. Shireen told her in that way they would always be connected. They were like sisters. No matter how they whispered or looked at her, she didn't believe Shireen was hideous, she was kind and intelligent. She was Lord Stannis's heir of Dragonstone. She was almost jealous, she wished she could have been heir to the throne and made queen instead of Joffrey. Tyrion was the first person to say the same to her, that she should be heir.

She missed Arya Stark and her older sister Sansa. They were good company. They both enjoyed talk of the South, only they wanted to know of different things. She remembered the last time they talked she told Sansa to look for her former friend Ser Loras Tyrell, the knight of flowers, and tell him that Lyla said hello. She told Arya who was not very excited, that if she wanted when they stopped at the Crossroads Inn, she should go to the Trident and search for Prince Rhaegar's rubies. Then she said her farewells to the girls, this would be the first time they rode south, and they would possibly never return to the North.

She wondered if they missed the North as much as she missed King's Landing.

 _Most likely Arya. Sansa on the other hand is probably ecstatic to leave this place for somewhere warm and with beautiful flowers and valiant knights._ She thought.  _Give them time in that city. They were not built to handle what lies in King's Landing. They were built for the cold winters. I suppose that means when the snow falls I will freeze._

She didn't know the Stark girls long, but she knew bits and pieces of them. She thought them all too green for the people she had met in King's Landing that scared her more so than any White Walker. Shifty conspirators such as Littlefinger, the eunuch Varys, horrible Grand Maester Pycelle, horrifying Ser Ilyn Payne, scarred Sandor Clegane, monstrous Ser Gregor Clegane, and so many more her Uncle Renly told her to stay away from.

In Winterfell, she wasn't sure who she could trust. Her mother reminded her to trust none of them, that they all only wanted her for whatever they could use her for. That all people in the world wanted to use her. That she could only trust her mother, as the only true love there ever is happens between a mother and her child. That men only told prude woman they loved them to gain access to their legs. And she was told not to give it to Robb Stark if she didn't want to. She was told by Ser Vorian that she shouldn't trust either.

 _The only danger I am in is any more time alone with my thoughts, another moment and I will have to strangle myself with this piece of clothes I'm using._ She thought in her frustration. She would not lie that a part of her wished that she was still in her warm home.

She threw the needle down and grumbled under her breath. She heard Ser Vorian chuckle. She turned her head up and looked at him, he continued to grin.

"I have not heard that song yet, princess," he commented cheekily, "how does it go? 'Ugh...'"

She almost chuckled herself, but she worried that he too would not take her seriously, so she did not grin at his remark. Instead she looked at her hand that she had pricked more times than she had been used to. Her hands hurt and she worried if she wounded herself she would have to see a maester, she wasn't particularly fond of maesters. She looked at the new dress she tried making. She hated it. She bawled it up.

"Princess, do not do that," he commented, coming over and taking the dress from her hands. He looked at the grey and dark blue dress she had yet to finished. He continued, "its not that ugly."

She laughed at that quip however, "shut up, Ser Vorian."

"So deprived of color, you are a colorful girl, princess," he told her, "pink, green, orange, purple. Those are the colors your dresses should be."

"In the North they wear grey, black, dark brown, and blue. I will be Lady of Winterfell someday, I have to dress like them," she informed him, when she spoke like that, trying to be ladylike, she sounded too much like her mother it almost scared Vorian.

"They also do not pray to the Faith of the Seven, they do not have septs, septons or septas," he told her, as if she was a child who could not plainly see that. She knew that they prayed to the old gods of the forest, that there was no clergy and that their sacred place was the weirwood trees with the scary faces. "But Lord Stark built a sept in Winterfell for Lady Catelyn when she still called herself Tully because he wanted her to have a place to pray. They only met when they first wed. You've known Robb Stark for almost a month, and have been wed for nearly a fortnight."

"So?" She questioned.

"So," he repeated, mocking the girl, "you are taking this northerner talk too far. You do not need to become someone else. You are a princess and a Baratheon. You have been great long before Robb Stark, never forget."

She nodded, he prepared to leave and stand by the door until she asked for his assistance.

Before he left, he turned to her, "if you are planning to hide among them, you will never do so with a Lannister lioness hanging around your neck." And with that he finally left her alone with her thoughts.

She placed her hand on her neck. She thinks briefly of removing it, but she feels as if she did she would no longer be connected to her mother and Myrcella, there were only three like it in the world. The one around her neck, and the two her mother and Myrcella always wore. She needed to have the strength of the lioness more so than she needed the grace of a doe. She put her hand back to the needle and continued to work on her new gown, she would make it beautiful.

 

* * *

 

She did enjoy the company of her husband when he would pay attention to her. Ever since his father left, his mother hardly left Bran long to handle the duties as Lady of Winterfell since her husband was still riding for King's Landing while they spoke. She enjoyed even just sitting and talking mindlessly with Robb about anything they could. She thought he enjoyed her company too, even though he had much to do, she would try and make time to talk with him. She wanted to get to know him better, he was to be her husband for many years.

_Many years, many months, many days, who knows in this world where it feels as if lifespans are becoming shorter..._

"You don't like kidney pie, my lady?" he asked. "How could you not like kidney pie, it tastes amazing."

She shook her head, "no, I hate the stuff. Who thought that baking flour, lard, water, eggs, milk, and beef kidneys covered in gravy is no friend of mine. Mother used to insist I had to eat it all, I used to hide it in my dress and feed it to the hunting dogs."

He laughed at her comment. "Kidney pie is good, Old Nan makes this good one with peas and onions."

"Well, I am not interested, my lord. No amount of peas and onions would ever make me want to taste that revolting excuse for a pie. I prefer lamprey."

"Why, may I ask?" He questioned his wife.

"Simply because of the taste, my lord," she explained. "I don't know what the lady's in the kitchen put in it, but I swear to the Mother it is the only reason worth going to that city, I tell you that."

"Then I suppose that it must be your favorite," he stated as if he had her all figured out.

"Wrong again, my lord," she shook her head of long black hairs, "my favorite would be honey cakes."

"I am not surprised. Then I will have them make you honey cakes, princess," he responded.

"Good," she grinned.

The two were enjoying a meal together. His mother could not (would not) join them for supper. They called for Rickon, but he had not arrived yet. She worried for that boy. He was too young to have all this tragedy. Half his family was missing, his brother in semi-permanent state of rest, and his mother refused to leave his side. Little Rickon was only six years old. He was confused and she assumed lonely. He was always clutching Robb's leg and crying when he hadn't run off to hide.

She brought up the matter once with her husband, Robb dismissed it as his mother fault. That Bran was recovering in his own amount of time, and that sitting besides his bed was doing nothing. That she needed to return to doing her duty as Lady of Winterfell and as a mother to her only remaining son Rickon who was still so young and needed a parent to take care of him.

"Where is your brother?" Lyla mindlessly asked as it was all she could think of looking at one of the empty seats. Robb looked in her eye direction and knew she only meant the best when she asked. "I worry."

"I know, princess," he nodded, "I do too, I want to help him, but I'm afraid he wants attention, he wants the family all together again, but that is something we can not do. If mother just..."

She stopped him from finishing his sentence by placing her hand on his, she looked him in the eyes, her emerald green with his sky blue, "she's in pain Robb. He is her son. Whether or not he wakes up can't change that she will worry for him even long after he wakes. We have to be patient with her. But even still, you are right as well, Rickon does need his mother more."

He turned his hand and held hers, she almost shudder at the feeling of having him old her hand that way. She enjoyed it quite a lot. She looked up from their hands to the man holding her hand. He smiled at her as well. It may have been all in her head, but she likes to believe she helped make this dark days a bit brighter. He did smile at her quite a bit. And he said he was fond of her. Fondness was a good a place as any to start a marriage.

But, the kind moment between the young couple was stopped when they heard the sound of sniffling. They looked over from each other to see little Rickon standing there with his face red and stained from tears.

"Rickon," Robb almost whispered. He prepared to stand up to get his younger brother, but Lyla held his hand and pulled him to stand still. He looked down at her in confusion as she held him in place.

"Rickon, darling, please come here. Please," she begged of him. He just stood there and snuffled while she looked at him with a sympathetic look. "Please, come eat, and let me clean your face." He nodded his head and walked over slowly as they offered some food for the boy. Robb sat down as Rickon made his way to the table where he sat down and watched her.

Rickon stopped a few feet beside her, he reached out and grabbed a hand of bread and started to munch on it quietly as he shook and tears covered his face. She grabbed a handkerchief. She pulled back a chair and offered it to the boy by patting at the seat. He seemed as if it was cared if her. It reminded her of when she saw stags in the woods that would slowly approach with caution. But he was a wolf who missed his pack. He slowly sat in the seat.

"Whatever is the matter, Rickon?" She asked curiously, although she already knew and Robb already told her what they thought was troubling the boy, but she wanted him to tell her himself.

He shrugged, it seemed as if he didn't want to tell her, which was fine, she was a stranger to him.

"It's alright, sweetling," she commented, the pet name 'sweetling' always made her feel much better when her mother called her it, so she wanted to make him fell better as well. He seemed to calm as he started to put some door into his stomach. She reached out and began to rub her face clean of tears. "There is no need to cry."

"Bran..." he all but whispered.

"Bran will live," Robb interjected, he had so it so many times she wondered if he truly believed it that much or if he was in denial of the worse. "You don't have to worry about him anymore, Rickon."

"Then why is mother staying with him?" He asked.

"Because she is his mother, a when her pup was injured, she had to make sure that he would be alright. When he wakes up, then your mother will be the same again."

He grumbled as she cleaned his face, he was too young to understand the connection between a mother and her children. He would not understand truly until he became a parent himself one day. She cleaned his face with the handkerchief before she placed it down on the table and instead began to rub his soft face.

"You have to be strong," she told him.

He said nothing in return.

"So you miss them? You father, your sister, Jon?" She asked the young boy.

He nodded his head, his curls bobbed with his head.

"I miss my family as well," she stated. She rubbed his cheek softly to make him fell more at ease around her. She would not leave Winterfell ever, this would be her new home, and this was his home already, it would be best that they begin to like one another. "Both our families are going to be very far away for a long time. Do you know what we are going to do?"

He looked at her confused. "What?"

"Sansa and Arya are going to the capital where they will see brave knights, grand castles, and the finest wines, food, and clothing. Jon is going to see the great wall built by a Stark. Your father will be the Hand, with my father as the king, your father will probably end up ruling the kingdoms. They will have great fun and make names for themselves. So why don't we do the same?"

He laughed at the thought. He knew what making a name for yourself meant. Just like Bran the Builder earned his name for building things such as the Wall, Winterfell, Hightower, and Storm's End. Or like Torrhen Stark who became known as the King Who Knelt for submitting to Aegon the Conqueror, who had also made a name for himself by taking seven kingdoms for himself. But then he was hit with confusion.

"How are we going to do that?" He asked, cocking a brow up and sitting closer to Lyla.

"Well, Robb will make a name for himself since he will become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day. So he doesn't need our help," she grimaced to her husband playfully. He smiled at her childish antics before she turned her head to continue with the boy.

"And you?" He asked.

"Well, that's much harder. My son will be lord of Winterfell after Robb, and that is a great feat. The North is almost half of Westeros, the largest kingdom."

He seemed to be much calmer now, she moved her hand back to hold her other one as she continued.

"Now you, what should you do to make a name for yourself?" She asked. "I know," she started, "we'll ride to Skagos and come back with some unicorns that you can ride around. They will make songs of Rickon the Unicorn Rider." All three of them laughed at the comment that he should ride a unicorn.

"What is a unicorn?" Rickon asked.

"Well, Rickon, a unicorn is a large goat-like animal, with a large single horn on its head. Unicorns live on Skagos and can be found in the higher mountains of Ib. They say sure-footed unicorns can climb steep mountains. So you can travel in the Vale and the rest of Westeros."

"I want to see one," Rickon commented.

"As do I," she nodded, "only Skagos is very dangerous. They have giants blood and live in caves and mountains. I will be fine on our voyage, but I hear they are said to eat small lordlings."

He laughed at the comment that he would be eaten. "No, I'm gonna fight them off!" He commented.

"Yes, and then you will ride the unicorn from Last Hearth to Salt Shore. They will whisper your name in the Free Cities and the Summer Isles as well."

"Lyla," Robb called her attention. "Please stop or he might actually do it." They both laughed at that.

Rickon grabbed her hand and held it tightly. He had just realized that Lyla was his sister now, his sister by marriage, but nonetheless his sister. She smiled as she looked down at the boy who they had distracted from the grief that surrounded him recently.

She realized that she finally had a little brother.

And she would have another when he finally woke up.


	14. Assassination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell is attacked in the night.

_Dear mother,_

_I trust that your journey along the kingsroad was well and that you settling in back in the Red Keep. I always found that you preferred the royal palace rather than any other castle. I remember how unpleasant you found the castles and inns on the kingsroad to be on our venture to Winterfell. I hope that the journey found you, father, Uncle Jaime, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, and the Starks well. I have settled into Winterfell._

_I already miss you, mother. I know that you miss me all the same. I still wear my lioness necklace proudly._

_With all my love,_   
_Princess Lyla_

That was where she drew at a blank. Should she sign it Lyla Baratheon as she had always, or was she now Lyla Stark. Her mother did not start being called Cersei Baratheon even once, even if it was the name of the king. She had always been Cersei Lannister. She wondered if the royal last name was the best, but in the North the name Stark would hold more weight. Lady Catelyn stopped calling herself Tully in favor of Stark. She liked the way it rolled of her tongue, she supposed.

She didn't finish the letter, instead she decided to wait a bit longer to see how she wanted to sign it or if there was anything else she wanted to add to it. She also did not know if their party had arrived in King's Landing yet. Most likely.

She remembered how long it took them to ride from King's Lamding to Winterfell. Her father they had to go then, as soon enough winter would arrive and there would be no more time for travel. Only time to stay home and pray for the summers return and that there was enough food and wine to get them through winter. She remembered every castle and inn they stayed at. Only the finest. Always with a brothel not too far away for her father to indulge in. She remembered how it felt they had spent more time riding in that month than she had ever before. It was her longest journey.

Winterfell was the most north she had ever gone. Her Uncle Tyrion once jokingly suggested that she ride with him to the Wall once. It spiked her interest. She wanted to see it. She remembered many members of the Night's Watch would ride south to the Red Keep. When court was in session, they would beg for more men, clothes, or food privations. Jon Arryn, would be sitting on the throne in place of her father of course, the wise good man would always promise they would give what they could. She remembered thinking how he was good at ruling. He often sat in for the king when her father decided he wanted to go hunting or whatnot. He was a good and kind man, she enjoyed his company. With the exception for his odd wife and son, the latter seemed obsessed with her. But she digressed. She would love to see the wall, maybe one day she would. The North would belong to her husband and their sons one day. That was if she had a son.

She knew that it would take some time to make a son, and even more time to know if she was even with child. But it made her wonder. What if she never gave her lord husband a son? He would hate her. Denying her a child and allowing the seat of Winterfell to fall to Bran and his children (or Rickon). Maybe he would turn to whores. No, there would be no point, they would all be bastards with the name of Snow. He would have to stay with her. A loveless marriage.

He would hate her the way her mother and father hated one another. They loved her so dearly she was almost blind to see that they despised one another. He was always with his whores, humiliating her. Her mother believed he was a witless oaf, she told this to Lyla with no regrets or remorse. They were not afraid to show how much they hated one another.

She promised herself she would not allow herself to be in a marriage such as that, which is why she didn't want to marry Robb Stark. Even when she saw he was very handsome in the Winterfell courtyard during their first meeting. With his dark curls, shaved face, and those deep blue eyes. Even when he made her heart race and her chest ache. Even when she saw he was honorable, that would never dishonor her by bedding whores and fathering bastards. Even how he was good and kind, he saved her life from the bear. Even when he was a gentleman, whether it was addressing her properly, kissing her hand, or escorting her arm-in-arm. He was perfect, but even still she was afraid to marry him in fear that he would hate her.

But how her heart soared when he called her Lady Stark during the feast of their wedding. Her mother reminded her plenty of times that she was not a Stark, that she was better than a mut, she was a lioness. That she was not a lady, she was better than that as well. That she was a princess and she would accept no less than the titles she deserved. But she would be Lady of Winterfell, and to hear Robb call her Lyla Stark seemed unreal to her. Yet it made sense, it felt right.

She grabbed the note and crumbled it up. She threw it and started to write again, wetting her pen with ink.

_Dearest mother, Queen Cersei Lannister,_

_I hope that the journey along the kingsroad found you all well. I know that it must be good for you to be in the Red Keep, I knew that you did not enjoy the relentless riding. A month in the north has made me miss the warmth and comfort of the south. My dresses, my ladies, the tournaments, and attending court. Still, I found myself compelled to this strange land. It has charm to it, I have to admit. I believe that I have begun to think of it positively, but it is not my home._

_Bran Stark has yet to wake from his rest. I am still worried for the sweet boy. Maester Ludwin says that the most dangerous time has passed and now we must just wait and see, yet my prayers are still with the boy as everyday I visit the sept and pray to the Mother for poor Brandon. Lady Catelyn does not leave his side, poor woman or worried for her boy understandably so. The youngest Stark, Rickon is fine but he grows more sad and aggressive with time. Robb has to be strong for all of them. The wolves howl often, as if something bad is on the horizon that we all don't see._

_I am fine, I suppose. I am not scared though. As I told you. But I think of you often. I find myself struggling to adapt. How to wear my hair, what to wear, and how they speak as well. But I have become fond of Winterfell and the Starks. Especially my husband. He continued to treat me well. Fondness is a good enough word, I always remember what you told me. But I do confess that our marriage has been the least problematic complication since we journeyed North. Still— all is alright with myself. I am in good health, I sleep well and eat regularly, and I often find myself happy or contempt at least._

_Please give my love to father, my brothers and dear Myrcella, Uncle Jaime, the Stark girls— Sansa and Arya, Lord Eddard, and Uncle Renly and Stannis— when you see him. The next time we will see one another is most likely when Sansa and Joffrey are to be wed, that is not soon enough. Until then, I will continue to write you mother whenever I can. I love you dearly and miss you._

_With all my love, your daughter,_   
_Princess Lyla Stark_

That seemed fine enough, she would send it in a fortnight or so when they should be in King's Landing.

 

* * *

 

_"It's always summer, under the sea. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh._

_The birds have scales, and the fish take wing. I know, I know, oh, oh._

_The rain is dry, and the snow falls up. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh._

_The stones crack open, the water burns._

_The shadow comes to dance, my love. The shadows come to play._

_The shadow comes to dance, my love. The shadows come to play."_

She sang a sweet and soft song that she had learned for her cousin, Shireen Baratheon. She was the only living child from her Uncle Stannis Baratheon and his wife Selyse Florent. She was ten years old, which meant she was much younger than Lyla, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy her company. She was a girl cursed with greyscale, but they stopped her illness but it left a hideous scar across the left side of her face, from her neck to her forehead. Her father was stoic to put it into kind words, and her mother was cruel and cold towards her only child, as if it was Shireen's fault that she could not bare her husband any living sons and that she was sick. Nonetheless, Shireen was a good and intelligent young girl.

She didn't see her often, but when she did she taught her a song she invented while sitting up in her tower alone. It was a long and busy song that she shortened. She sang the song when she was alone. It was there private song that no one else in the world needed to know besides each other. If others heard it, the song could spread like wildfire. That was the way with good songs. But this song was one that should stay between Lyla and her only cousin she had. She often thought of Shireen alone in her tower singing he song as well.

She sang often. She had been told she was a good singer, one of her few talents she supposed. She sang sometimes when she was asked to. She sang for a few people. Her younger siblings (Tommen and Myrcella, Joffrey complained that she sounded like a dying cat), her mother, her Uncle Renly, and sometimes her grandfather Tywin. They all claimed she had a soft and gentle voice that was not powerful enough to fill the room, but loud enough you could hear her and the melodic voice she had. She never liked singing in front of people. With exception of course on Maiden's Day when she sand with the other maidens. She supposes she would never enjoy another day of faith like that. Now instead she would have to song to herself.

She continued to work on her dress. She was alone while she mindlessly sang to herself while thinking of her home. She often found herself mindless thinking of whatever, whether it was the Red Keep, her family, the Stormlands, the North, the Starks, her husband. She was often in her room as she felt out of place anywhere else because she was one of the most southern person they had ever seen. She liked being alone in her room. But she wasn't completely alone.

"It's a nice song," a voice spoke. She stopped threading her sewing needle and turned her head to see her husband leaning on the door frame of the door. She felt her cheeks warm as she was embarrassed that he heard her sing. He approached her while he continued, "I don't believe I've heard that one before. Is it a strictly southern song, princess?"

"My cousin, Lord Stannis's only daughter Shireen, made up the song , we are the only two who know the lyrics," she replied.

"What's it called?" He asked curiously.

" _It's Always Summer Under the Sea_ ," she answered quickly.

"Good name," he added, "she could be a singer."

"Unlikely," Lyla mindlessly muttered under her breath. Robb looked at her confused, she thought that what she sounded seemed rude, she tired to clarify for him. "Shireen has no brother's, she will inherit Dragonstone when her father passes. She will be the first Lady of Dragonstone. No matter how good of a singer she is, she will spend her time on that miserable rock. How lucky she is to have no brothers."

She would have been queen of the seven kingdoms of she had no brothers. Like Rhaenrya Targaryen tried to be the first queen of Westeros, but her half brothers managed to win the war and she died a traitor's death. She knew one thing, and that was that no matter what, Joffrey would never amount to being a good king in any sense. He would be the worst. He was a weak and cruel boy. He liked mocking and hurting the defenseless. He was egotistical and too quick to anger. She was no great leader, but she knew that a direwolf would be a more just ruler than her brother could ever hope to be.

"I would have much preferred you, with all do respect, over your brother," he spoke up, as if he could hear her abstract thoughts of how unfair that it was that a cruel boy would rule before the older and more just girl.

"Thank you."

"And a much better singer."

Her cheeks warmed so much that she could feel her face reddened as she looked down at her hands where she held the needle and the grey fabric that was placed in her lap.

"Thank you, Robb. Why the sudden flattery?"

"Simple truths, Lyla."

"Alright," she mused mindlessly again, pushing a piece of her loose hair behind her ear.

She looked up at him. Those blue eyes in front of her. He was standing so close as if she hadn't noticed how close he got to her. He stood so close she had to look up for their eyes to finally meet. She smiled to him in the corner of her mouth, but even still she was worried about what he would say. She was constantly worried. She never knew what he was thinking. She always knew what everyone was thinking. Their faces tell. But she could not do so for her new husband. It frustrated her.

He got down on his knees so their eyes would meet as equals, he still stared at her with the same intensity he always had that made her spine chill and her heart pound against her chest as it were trying to escape. Intimacy was always a foreign thing to her. She supposed it shouldn't be. She had been married for a month to this man. She was fond of him, she enjoyed his company and their banter. She spent most of her time with him or Theon, but she much preferred her husbands company. She didn't know why when he got close to her in this way she was more nervous then when they were in bed. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. The subtle intimacy in his gaze.

"Are you happy here in Winterfell, Lyla?" He asked, oddly.

She wasn't sure why he was asking. Did she make it seem as if she didn't want to be in the North? She supposed she had spent most her time locked away in her room like a hostage.

She tried to give him a sincere and kind smile as she looked into his intense blue eyes with her cat-like green. "I am."

He returned the smile, she focused on how all his features moved that made his magnificent grin. "That's good, I'm glad that you are happy here. I am glad you are here."

"Thank you, Robb," she replied, trying to pace her breath. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but now she knew that he too enjoyed her company as well. That was good.

"Simple truths, Lyla," he repeated, which made her silently laugh to herself as he repeated what he said earlier.

Robb moved his hand to hold hers, his thumb rubbed circles to soothe her palm. She almost flinched at his gentle touch. His hand moved up from her hand to reach her cheek. Instead of flinching, she enjoyed his rough hand on her smooth gentle face. Their gaze only returned briefly before he leaned in closer and shared a soft and gentle kiss with his wife.

He pulled away, she didn't want him to, but he did anyways. She looked at his eyes as he took a harsh breath and then continued speaking with her.

"I have to go seek with my mother about Rickon, and Bran," he simply stated. She knew he would talk to her soon. Rickon always followed them, crying and asking questions they couldn't answer. Robb blamed his mother for abandoning him to watch over Bran.

She agreed it was right for him to talk to her, she hoped he wouldn't be too mad with Lady Catelyn, they couldn't begin to understand what it must have been like for her. Lyla felt selfish again, she didn't want her husband to leave, but she had to. "Don't take too long."

He nodded, a charming smile across his face before he leaned in, his lips captured hers again. She dropped her needle, and thread her fingers into his curls before releasing.

He stood up and walked to the door, she watched him walk with her cat-like green eyes, she looked down at her own hands and noticed that she dropped her needle. She stood up and started to search the floor with it so she could finish with her busy work. She couldn't find it and cursed it. Lyla could always get another one, but she didn't have any more in this room, and she wanted to wait for Robb instead of wondering the halls of Winterfell during the dusk. That's when she came up with a brilliant idea. Vorian could get it.

She walked out of her room and looked around for the salty dornishman who acted as her personal guard, he wouldn't mind finding her a needle. She was sure that it must have been boring to be the only knight this far up the Neck. Lyla couldn't begin to think of what threats she would meet here. In King's Landing, there were plenty of threats because everyone had their own plot and agendas, but in the North, everyone seemed more honest, maybe from the sense of honest. Vorian mostly acted as her companion as he humorously taunted Theon Greyjoy and the rest of the Northern culture. She never did know why he hated the Starks.

"Ser Vorian?" She called out, when she exited her room. He was nowhere to be found. Odd, she told him to stay near, but stop stalking outside her door. She wonders where he went.

Then she hears the horrible sound of wolves howling together. Grey Wind and Shaggydog she suspects. It was possibly Rickon messing with them again, but they were exceptionally loud.

She decided to look for him. Lyla had an option to stay in her room and search endlessly for her needle to continue sewing, or she could look for Vorian. She decided on the option that would allow her to spend the most time outside of her bed chambers. 

She found herself outside of Bran Stark's room. Inside was Catelyn standing alone, Robb must have left. She should have turned around and left. She decided to go in and talk to her, she seemed distressed, maybe she needed some comfort of her own now.

As she reached out for the door, she felt a presence behind her. 

When she turned around she saw a man behind her, as if he was going to go inside. She had never seen this man around Winterfell before, she knew he was not a good man just by looking at him. He was filthy and lowborn most likely, he was by no means handsome and his teeth were a shade of yellow, his hair was lifeless and a light brown that looked grey.

He wasn't very happy to see the princess, he clearly knew who she was of course, no matter how lowborn, if he was in the halls of Winterfell he could tell the black-haired lady with a lioness necklace was Lyla Baratheon. But he was none the more pleased. "You're not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here," he spat, Lyla was frozen in shock not able to move or say a word to this strange man. He moved his hand and showed the blade with him, he was not hear on business. He was an assassin. "It's a mercy. He's dead already."

He removed the blade from his belt into his hand, her mind finally snapped back to reality. She could not let him hurt Bran or Lady Catelyn. "No!" she managed to scream, giving warning to anyone around to hear the princess scream. He moved and threw her against the wall, but she grabbed the knife like a fool and pulled him back. She punched him the way she had seen other man do to one another on the streets of King's Landing. He scoffed and called her a bitch, then he pulled her back against the wall trying to slit her throat as she held back the blade with her hands. Lady Catelyn heard them and ran to the door to screamed.

"Get off her! Guards!" She screamed, running to pull his hands from her. He moved forward and hit Lady Catelyn to the ground, Lyla sunk down and looked at her bloodied hands. 

He grabbed his knife and looked as if he was ready to hack Lady Catelyn to death.

The assassin dropped his knife, blood dripped from his mouth, a sword was threw his stomach, and behind him gripping the sword that killed him was Ser Vorian Dayne.

The man dropped dead on the ground. Ser Vorian removed his sword from the man, and placed it back at it's side as he went to Lyla whose hands were covered in blood, and to Lady Catelyn with more courage than any man he saw at the Greyjoy Rebellion. 

The direwolf left the room and over to the assassin.

She heard nothing as they spoke to her and tried to tend to her as they called out for help. She didn't hear a word as she kept her eyes on the light brown direwolf moving towards the dead body. The body of a man who attacked her, who intended to kill the boy in his bed.

Who would have such a cold heart they would kill a sweet boy like Bran?


	15. Born Of Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Catelyn discovers the truth of Bran's family, Lyla is left in a compromised situation.

When Robb saw Lyla's bloodied hands, she thought he was so mad he would have travelled through the seven hells to kill the man again. Her mother always said man had weird ways of showing that they cared, she supposed his anger at the nameless assassin was his way of showing that he cared for Lyla. He found her with the Maester in his office. His mother had returned to Bran while they removed the body of the assassin. Ser Vorian had carried her over to the office with her hands clumsily tied to keep her from bleeding to death. 

"How was he? What was he doing here? Why did you grab the blade? What were you doing outside of your room?" He asked frantically, she didn't answer as single one while she looked into his deep blue eyes, full of worry and a bit of anger at his wife. She didn't have any answers for her husband, there was no reason she would grab the blade (besides that she is an idiot), she left the room to find a needle or Robb, he was some assassin who apparently was going to kill Bran because it was mercy and he was already. But she didn't say any of it.

"My lord, I believe the princess has had a bit of a scare tonight. The man is dead, and our young lord is fine, maybe you should take her to bed, I have taken the best care of her hands as I can do for now until they have healed. I will change them in the morning," the Maester informed him, which ended the questions as he stood up the princess and Robb put his hand around her waist.

"Thank you, Maester Ludwin," Robb bowed his head a bit in respect, holding Lyla tightly by the waist. She liked how he held her, the contact in front of another made her feel bashful, but she was proud and strong, so she did not allow herself to seem flustered. 

Lyla nodded her head, "thank you, maester."

He lead her back to their room, he told Ser Vorian he could retire because she would be protected by Robb himself. Vorian seemed as if he wanted to laugh at Robb establishing his dominance with his wife. Nonetheless, Robb won and Vorian walked away. He saved Lyla, Lady Catelyn, and Bran that night, which meant Robb was in his debt. Lyla and Robb said nothing as they walked down the halls together, he never removed his arm from her waist as he lead her down the hall. She wanted him to say something to her, anything at all.

When they walked into their room he locked the door, and she just stood there while she listened to him move. She didn't know what he wanted to say, what he wanted her to do. She was glad that she left the room, she needed to have done something to protect Bran and Catelyn. She would have done it again as wellThis wasn't even the dumbest thing she did something for the people she held dear. The dumbest thing she did was probably when she went off her own on a hunt and was almost attacked by a bear. The dumbest thing she did for someone she held dear was when she fell into the ocean and nearly drowned to get Myrcella's lioness necklace she dropped. She knew she would do more dumb things that wouldn't apologize for, but she knew he wanted her to say something.

"What were you thinking?" Robb asked his wife simply, she didn't answer, because she wasn't thinking when she stepped in when she did.  _Only that Bran and Lady Catelyn were in danger, which meant I had to do what I could to save them for as long as I could,_ but she didn't say it for some reason. Instead she turned around to face him while he walked over with a stern look on his handsome face, she didn't cower in fear, a lioness did not cower, and her mother told her to be a lioness. He grabbed her hands, it hurt a bit, but she didn't make a sound as he lifted them up and held them gently and carefully. "I should have been there protecting you."

"You couldn't have, and it's not your fault," she whispered, "a few scars on my hands are worth it now that Bran and your mother are both alright and the man is dead. And I am here. With you."

When she added the part of being with him, he looked at her with a softened gaze. He placed a hand on her cheek, he brought her closer and gave her another gentle kiss, rubbing his finger down her jaw as he smiles against her and gives her more little kisses, each one makes her heart flutter more and more. She ignores the pain in her hands to bring herself closer to her husband.

That night she slept with her husband holding her safe and warm, he was behind her, arm around her waist holding her close and protectively, his face rested on her neck, she could feel him breath and feel it on her long delicate neck. She liked when Robb held her like this, not that he did it often, but when she did so, it made her feel safe and protected. She wanted to be held like this much longer. She forgot what it was like to sleep alone after a month with Robb in her bed. She preferred to be with him than held in a cold lonely bed.

She woke up alone. 

She was always cold in the North, Lyla had yet to adapt to the cold of the North, it was perhaps her least favorite part (with the exception of when an assassin tried to attack Bran, she grabbed his blade, and now she has cuts on both hands). She only felt warm when she was in bed with Robb, whether he was kissing her neck in passion or holding her while she listened to him lightly snore in his sleep. She woke up in a thin night dress with her bandages on her hands still, Maester Ludwin claimed he would inform her when he needed to change them and cleans them, and when they would be finally healed. She didn't mind the burning pain, instead she thought who would want to kill poor Bran.

All she could think about was what Joffrey said, according the Ser Vorian who told her about what her foul brother said and how her uncle Tyrion slapped him:

_"What good will my sympathies do them?....The boy means nothing to me. Lyla has been crying endlessly. I can't stand the wailing of women."_

Joffrey had always been the foulest of boys. She despised the boy since they were young. When she was young, she loved Joffrey, until a certain age she loved her brother the way any sister should have. When he was a baby, he would smile at Lyla and touch her cheek. Unlike Lyla, who was kind-hearted and gentle while growing up, Joffrey was spoiled and indulgent child with a cruel streak within him. Uncle Tyrion said it was because Lyla was the beloved princess, loved by smallfolk and nobility. She made her father proud, stole what was left of his broken heart, and Joffrey was jealous that Robert had affection for his daughter over his son.

She couldn't believe Joffrey would have done it. He was an idiot. Was he such an idiot and so cruel that he would have Bran Stark killed? Possibly, but unlikely that he would have been able to plan this attack, although it was reckless and cruel enough to be the work of Joffrey. He was too cruel, he would much rather the boy die slowly in his bed the way he believed he was. She didn't waste another thought on her grotesque brother. She knew, if it was anyone, they needed to have some wit with their cruelty to do such a thing. 

Could it have been her own mother? She remembered what her mother said the morning before they finally left Winterfell:

_"It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain."_

Lyla was no idiot like her brother, she knew her mother was kind-hearted, she was a lioness of Casterly Rock, she prided herself on being ruthless, willful, cold, ambitious, and cunning. Lyla was her daughter, her firstborn, which meant she loved her daughter with all her heart. She doted on Lyla and she was heartbroken when she had to give her away. Would her mother have the heart to murder a boy sleeping in his bed, possibly. 

Lyla remembered how her Uncle Jaime and mother looked at one another when her Uncle Tyrion mentioned that Bran might live. While Myrcella's face lit up with joy and little Tommen was as happy as a lamb. She didn't say anything about the way they looked at one another. She didn't know what to say if there was anything too say. It seemed as if they were distressed of hearing that the boy was going to live.

Then she remembered the horrid thing her Uncle Jaime said:

_"Even if the boy lives, he'll be a cripple, a grotesque. Give me a good clean death any day."_

No, she refused to believe her Uncle Jaime would have sent an assassin.

Unlike her mother or Joffrey, Jaime was not cruel. He was arrogant, he is blunt with honesty, and the rest of house Lannister- he treated his brother, her Uncle Tyrion, with respect and kindness. They had a relationship like two brothers should. Why would he kill the sweet Bran when he was no different than her uncle, who did not chose to be born a dwarf but instead used the best of his situation to get what he wanted out of life. She couldn't except the man who taught her how to ride a horse, told her of the mermaids in the waters of Lannisport, and would act as her guard so she could have some fun when she was a girl. He could not have done something so cruel. He wouldn't. He couldn't. 

She stopped imagining that her family would do something like this, no matter how likely it seemed, how odd the timing was. They were her family, no matter the reputation of the Lannister's was, she had learned that reputations tend to be misleading. Her Uncle Tyrion has a reputation for being a little monster, but despite his appearance, is intelligent, charismatic, and thoughtful. Ser Vorian had a reputation for being a ruthless killer, but serves to protect a little girl. Even Ned Stark had a reputation as a man of honor, but he himself has a bastard. It sickened her to imagine her family would hurt Bran like that, so she refused to believe it.

She sat up and grabbed her robe, she needed to get ready for the day. She could eat something and get herself cleaned up before having Maester Ludwin take another look at her hands. Whoever tried to have Brandon Stark killed in his bed would be found eventually, she told herself, when word of it reached Ned Stark in King's Landing.

But she wouldn't waste another thought on it or who could have hired the assassin. She would leave this to Ser Rodrik Cassel and Lady Catelyn.

 

* * *

 

Catelyn could not stop thinking of how her soon feel from that window. It all started when it happened, and even the fall itself was odd. She had told him many times not to climb the castle walls because she feared one day he would fall, and of course her fear became true. It seemed plausible enough, and she would have believed that he had just fallen by not holding on tight enough or a misstep, if not for the assassin who attacked her good-daughter, poor Lyla's hands will take weeks if a month to heal, in attempt to murder her boy who lied still in his bed. That was what made her forget her grief and begin analyzing the situation.

Catelyn got up and left Bran alone for the first time in a month, she didn't want to leave his side, but if it meant she could ensure his safety, she would. She had them make her a bath, she brushed her copper locks, and changed into her fine dress and robes. She walked through Winterfell, all the men and women looked at their lady walking around once again happily, they were glad to see she was alright, but she didn't have time to converse. She wanted to ground where Bran feel flat when they heard Summer howling for assistance. He was motionless, his eyes shut, and like he was broken. When she looked up at the tower and noticed she was standing directly beneath a window. Curious.

She went to the top of the tower herself, she needed a better view. Standing at the window, she could feel the cold winds of the winter to come in her face, the sound of the leaves rustling, and birds flocking. But her eyes were set on the ground beneath. She then looked up at Winterfell which she could see from the broken tower. Catelyn was speechless and breathless at the view. She struggled to keep a clear mind anymore, her daughters were miles away with her husband and her dearest boy lied in his bed- unclear if he would ever wake up. 

She wandered around the top room of the tower, looking around to see if she would find anything of interest. The floors were dirty and covered with death leaves and dirt from years of no one cleaning it. She could see why. It was a ruin that no one in their right mind would want to visit. It was only ever passed by when someone was intending on going to the crypts beside it. But as she walked, she noticed there was a patch of ground that had been cleaned. Odd. That meant someone would have to have been up in the tower to have to clean it. When she got down on her knees, she noticed something lying on the floor.

She lifted a strand of long golden blonde hair. 

Lannister hair.

It couldn't possibly be. The Lannisters were invited guests at their home. They slept under their roof and ate their food. They even combined their houses by marrying the princess to Robb. 

No, the sweet princess was of house Baratheon. She was the daughter of King Robert, the good friend of her lord husband. Lyla had been nothing a good wife to Robb who was deeply infatuated with his wife, make a quick friendship with both her good sisters, been compassionate and understanding with Catelyn, taken care of Rickon, and fought a man to protect Bran. She proved herself trustworthy. A woman of family, honor, and duty. Much like Catelyn herself. 

But Lyla is a Baratheon of black hair. These were the Lannisters, and unlike Lyla...they did not know the meaning of honor or morality. They were famed for the horrible things they had done. Especially Tywin Lannister. He showed all the Westerlands that the lions were to be feared when he ended the Reyne-Tarbeck revolt by killing ever single man, woman, servant, and child. It would forever be immortalized in the song, the  _Rains of Castamere_ and gave darker meaning to the common phrase  _"a Lannister always pays his debts,"_  which originally referred solely to the Lannisters' vast fortune.He showed all Seven Kingdoms that House Lannister was ruthless when he sacked the city of King's Landing. Maybe to show his loyalty to Robert Baratheon, or maybe because he named his son and heir to the Kingsguard and forced the imp to be his heir. 

She had hosted all three of her children in her home. Queen Cersei came to her room and shared an honest and vulnerable story of how her daughter was sick and expected to die, much like Bran, as a means to give Catelyn hope. Cersei was the queen, with three children of her own, could it have been here. The imp was harder to defend. All she knew was that he liked to overindulge in foul things such as drunkiness and brothel whores, though that made him as guilty as the king. But she did not trust the half-man doe sure. The kingslayer however, was known to be an oathbreaker, would it be so off for him to have been the one who harmed her son? All three seemed off a touch, they were Lannisters after all.

Even with all that she has done, Lyla was more than a Baratheon. She was Lannister as well. Daughter of the queen. She noticed Lyla did not spend much time with her father, she was closer to her mother. Catelyn always noticed how much Cersei hated the North, whether it was her insincere comments, passive aggressive replies, or how possessive she was of the daughter she was forced to give away. Lyla was much like her mother. There was a resemblance, no denying that. With the exception of her black hair, she looked very much like her mother. Their shared high cheekbones, pink lips, white teeth, fair skin, and cat-like green eyes. Lyla still wore a lioness necklace around her neck. And once, before all these horrible events, in the halls she could hear her singing the song the  _Rains of Castamere_. How much did they truly know about the Lannisters and Lyla? Could they even be trusted?

She didn't want to assume the worst about her good daughter, but if there was even a small chance that she or her family were trying to harm her son, she would take all precautions to make sure she protected no only Bran; but Robb and Rickon whom both followed Lyla like trained dogs, and, Sansa and Arya who were trapped in the lions den. She needed to find Ned, speak to her husband herself, to learn the most they could and bring these Lannisters to justice for what they did to her boy. It was all making more sense now in her cleared mind.

Eight years long betrothal, the princess flowered when she was fourteen, why now? Why after Lord Jon Arryn passed? Lysa herself lived in King's Landing told them of how the Lannisters may have murdered her lord husband, and to beware the lions. Was it possible they were trying to steal the North the way they took the crown? Marry their eldest son to a pretty princess and once they have an heir from Robb, kill the rest of House Stark like they did House Reyne and Tarbeck? She was not sure, but it all seemed too odd for her liking. She needed answers now.

She held council in the godswood, the only place she knew where no spies would hear, where they would be completely alone. She called over only four others she believed that she could trust. Maester Ludwin, who was wise and sworn to the lords and ladies of Winterfell, Ser Rodrik Cassel, who she knew was fiercely loyal to House Stark, Robb, her heir, and Theon Greyjoy, because whatever she said about Lyla she was afraid Robb would not believe, but Theon possibly would, and he would keep an eye on her.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us," she began, looking at all their faces. She thought long and hard about what she was going to say next. She was planning to accuse a great and ancient house that crushed anyone who questioned them or tried to undermine them. But this was her family, she would gladly return the favor to House Lannister if they planned to harm her family. "I don't think Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown." She looked at her eldest child, her firstborn. He was not shaken or surprised in the slightest when she suggest the idea. She felt horrible when she planned to accuse his wife of horrible deeds.

Maester Ludwin agrees, nodding his head while speaking with Ser Rodrick, "The boy was always sure-footed before." 

Catelyn continued, "someone tried to kill him twice. Why? Why murder an innocent child? Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

"Saw what, my lady?" Theon asked, confused about what she was insinuating, much like everyone else who stood in the godswoods at her request.

She was honest with them, as she should be. "I don't know. But I would stake my life the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

It was true the Lannisters and Starks have hated each other for years, they were complete opposites, foils towards one another. Robb didn't care for the Lannisters either himself. Their smug faces and entitlement because they believe they are golden lions. But then he thought of Lyla, his wife, who was born from a Lannister mother, who still always wore her lioness necklace. She was born with the same cat-like green eyes as her mother and uncles. But she was not disloyal to her father or him. He was already beginning to reject her statement.

"Did you notice the dagger the killer used?" Ser Rodrik mentioned, none of them saw it well because it had been covered in the blood of the princess. However, Ser Rodrik held out a clean blade to show them the finely crafted blade. "It's too fine a weapon for such a man. The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle dragonbone. Someone gave it to him."

"They come into our home and try to murder my brother?" Robb spoke up, he didn't mention his wife, there was no reason to, he refused to believe she would be involved in anything the Lannisters would have plotted. She was a Baratheon, and she was good. "If it's war they want..."

"If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you," Theon interjected, quickly to agree to the plans of declaring war on the Lannisters. He seemed far too eager. 

"What, is there going to be a battle in the Godswood?" Maester Ludwin asked, rhetorically of course. He shook his head at the two young men who would soon enough become lords of Winterfell and Pyke, respectively. They could always use wisdom in times like this. "Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet. Lord Stark must be told of this."

"I don't trust a raven to carry these words," Catelyn shook her head. 

"I'll ride to King's Landing," Robb stated.

"No," she quickly responded. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go myself."

"Mother, you can't."

"I must," Catelyn insisted.

"I'll send Hal with a squad of guardsmen to escort you," Rodrik added.

She shook her head, "too large a party attracts unwanted attention. I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming." They already had a Lannister in their home, she would notice that Catelyn was missing and could inform her family, which is why she could not know that they believed the Lannisters were enemies to the crown and House Stark. "Until I return, check the letters Lyla wants to send her mother, no word of this should leave these woods."

"Mother, she is not a prisoner, she is my wife, she would never betray my trust and want to harm Bran," Robb assured her, so confident in his words.

Catelyn wanted that to be true. The Lannisters had her daughters in their clutches, they could always use Lyla against them should that ever come. "We don't know that," Catelyn replied. 

Robb was quiet, she was right, how much did he know about Lyla?

Her guard was a deadly knight. Why did she need so much protection? She was very secretive and did not like speaking about herself, rather Robb or his siblings. Could it all have been some lie? His mother wouldn't have accused her of such a thing if it was not possible. It wasn't like history had ever shown a woman who used her beauty for personal gain. He was beginning to question his own marriage and just who exactly his wife is.

" Let me accompany you at least," Ser Rodrik insisted. "The Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone." She looked to Ludwin who nodded in agreement, so she nodded as well.

"What about Bran?" Robb asked, trying not to think of his marriage coils.

She was quiet for a long time as she felt her heart become heavy, she was at a loss for words. She didn't want to leave him laying in bed alone. Catelyn wanted to be there when his eyes opened again or there when they never did again.But as a mother and a lady, she knew what she had to do now, even if it pained her. "I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month. Bran's life is in their hands now."

 

* * *

 

That night Lady Catelyn left Winterfell for reasons Lyla never got an answer to.

On that same night she felt a rift between she and her husband. Something she feared would happen but prayed never would.

 


	16. Tyrion the Imp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion arrives in Winterfell once more.

The news of her Uncle Tyrion's arrival made Lyla very happy. Everyone in Winterfell had been acting odd since Lady Catelyn left with no explanation. Except Bran who had thankfully woken up finally, and Rickon who was a child. It seemed like they were all keeping some kind of secret, the way they looked and treated her now showed that she must have done something or they must know something that she doesn't. But with her Uncle Tyrion, even for just a night, she would have another person besides a child to speak with. She always enjoyed speaking with him, maybe it was because his dwarfism gives him a greater life view on the world that a pretty princess like Lyla could never truly understand, but rather liked listening to.

Theon was the one who told her of his arrival while Robb was sitting on the council of Winterfell now. She felt as if he was avoiding her, he hardly looked or talked to her, whatever warmth she felt was now fading. Theon Greyjoy however was a different story. She didn't harbor negative feelings towards him, she certainly did not like the way he looked at her (it wasn't cold like her northern husband, too suggestive for her taste) and the way he spoke to her. She was a princess, he was a hostage to ensure no more stupid rebellions from House Greyjoy who were lucky enough to keep their lands and titles. She couldn't help but smile when he mentioned his name, but quickly grimaced as he continued.

"Tyrion," he quickly added the end, "you uncle, the imp."

She glared at him, not with cold eyes like the Starks would do. Hers always had fire to it, as if there were daggers shooting at Theon. Her voice has much power in it, not a roar, but she made it clear in her tone, "he doesn't like being called that."

"Why would I care what the imp thinks?" Theon questioned, still not understanding.

"Because I, your princess, am telling you not to call him that name again, have respect for your superiors, he will be Lord of Casterly Rock by law one day," she informed him. She added the end but because she knew that her grandfather Tywin would never let that happen so long as he lived. The man still had hope Jaime would become Lord of Casterly Rock.

"And I will be Lord of Iron Islands," he informed her.

"And?" She asked, when he couldn't think of anything, she smirked in satisfaction. "And nothing."

Theon's sons, if there is any woman who could stand to marry him, would be lords of some floating rocks on a waste of land filled with raiders and rapists. Tyrion's sons, should he ever have children, will be a part of the wealthiest family in all Westeros. And Lyla's sons, should Robb ever pay her enough mind to sire sons, will be lords of Winterfell, Wardens of the North, and wear their honor like a badge.

She stood up to leave to see her Uncle, she needed someone to talk to, hopefully he would stay long enough. She missed her family dearly. They had received word that they all arrived at King's Landing safely, with the exception of Sansa's direwolf, Lady (apparently Nymeria attacked Joffrey, but because the wolf was gone, they punished Lady instead. It all reeked of filthy lies made by Joffrey— he did the same to her when they were children). She wanted to send her letter, but Maester Ludwin didn't send the raven with the message for her mother telling her how she fared and how much she missed them all. Her Uncle Tyrion would make it seem normal once again with his familiar shenanigans and antics.

Theon stopped her. He blocked the doorway, when she wanted to pass she looked up him with piercing eyes. He was visually embarrassed for the way she snapped at him earlier, maybe a bit of anger as well. He simply replied, "princess, they have requested that we bring Bran along with us. But you better than anyone knows that little lord doesn't want to leave his bed. Come with me to reason with him?"

She wasn't all too fond of Theon, especially now that he was acting weird and bothering her, he always looked at her oddly. He looked at her the way other men did for her beauty. Only when he spoke of Bran, she couldn't be mad. She hardly got to know Bran Stark before he fell. He was sweet and kind. When her father and she greeted the Starks and her father teased him over his muscles, he blushed when Lyla smiled at him. Even now when he sat in bed sad with himself, dreading the very life he had been granted, he liked Lyla's company. She told him stories. Unlike Old Nan, he liked how she would run her hands through his hair. She liked Bran, a sweet summer child who didn't deserve all the hardship that came his way.

As much as she wanted to see her Uncle Tyrion immediately, she would help Theon with the Stark boy.She nodded her head, "of course." With that he escorted her down the hall.

When they walked in the door, Bran had just woken up from a dream. It was not a very pleasant dream. When he opened his eyes he could see Old Nan rocking in her chair besides him. In front of him at the door was Theon and lovely Lyla. She smiled at him, a warm smile as she walked over to brush his bangs out of his face as she grinned, her smile made the sides of his mouth turn into a small grin for her.

"Taking a midday rest?" She asked, teasingly.

"The little lord's been dreaming again," Old Nan informed her princess. He has been trapped in his dreams for a while now.

"We have visitors," Lyla informed him.

Bran spat out to sound intimidating and commanding like a grown man, "I don't want to see anyone."

It made Lyla's smile fade away as she moved her hand away from his head and gave him an understanding look. There was no way either Lyla, Theon, or Robb knew what it was like to be Bran now. He would never be able to use his legs again. He had been in a bitter mood for quite some time. His mother was gone, as was his father and sisters, and he was left a cripple when he was once so lively running around and climbing, now confined to his bed to listen to stories from Old Nan.

Of course, Theon was not so empathetic as the princess was when he laughed to himself and remarked, "really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad." Summer laid at Bran's feet, she was still and calm, Lyla had grown used to the direwolves, they never harmed her, they were just large dogs. She was more worried about the wolf who refused to leave his bed. Theon continued, "anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting."

"I don't want to go," Bran shot back, giving Theon a grimace.

"But you will anyways," Lyla stated, "you are the son of Lord Eddard Stark, lord of Winterfell, which means there will be plenty of things you will require to do whether you like it or otherwise." She stood up and looked down at the boy, she was told the same by her grandfather Tywin that once. "Now come on, I want to go, even if you don't."

"I don't want to go either," Theon informed the little lord. Lyla turned her head of black hairs to the ironborn. She supposed he wouldn't be too fond of Lannister lions, since they were one of the armies that crushed his family in their stupid attempt for a rebellion against her father. "But, your good sister is right, for now Robb's Lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says and you do what I say." She rolled her eyes at the sentiment. Theon then called out, "Hodor!"

A big giant with grey hair and a big build came lumping in. He was a simpleton she supposed, he could only repeat his own name. But he was still probably one of the most friendliest people she had met in the North. Maybe it was because he was simple minded, he wasn't always paranoid, spiteful, or greedy. He was strong enough and usually helped to carry Bran now that he couldn't use his own legs. She smiled at him.

Lyla commanded, "Hodor, help Bran down the hall." He did as she told him and helped pick up Bran from his bed reluctantly.

While Lyla, Theon, Bran, and Hodor made their way down to the main hall, Tyrion was receiving the greeting he was hoping for. He was expecting a for all of Winterfell to gather in the courtyard and now for them, treating him like the king, but he was not also expecting to be greeted with such a cold demeanor. Although, he was not surprised, it was the North. But they seemed so much hospitable and kind when he came first with the rest of his family. Speaking of family, he darted around looking for his niece who he expected to greet him. Instead all he was a Maester, a direwolf laying in front of the table, and Robb sitting in as Lord of Winterfell.

"I must say I received a warmer welcome on my last visit," Tyrion remarked, looking around for the one dance that always had a smile and a shine in those green cat-eyes. He thought it odd Robb was greeting them instead of Lady Stark. Curious. "Where is the princess?"

Robb tensed at his wife's name. Things had been distant between he and Lyla. He hated acting this way towards her, she was confused and upset about how he had been treating her. Just when he believed that when he looked at her, listened to her musical laugh, the way she gracefully moved, the banter they shared, or the silent moments she would place her hand on his. His mother had told him in time they could grow to love one another, but more than a month with the princess, and he was almost sure it was true.

But they changed when they discovered a Lannister could have harmed his younger brother. He wanted to trust Lyla, he wanted to tell her everything that he knew and that he was sorry for how he treated her. Hope that she would forgive him for the days he ignored him and how cold he had been to her. Hope that her heart was big enough to accept him again so they could have many happy years of marriage. But looking down at the imp, the thought of how he couldn't trust the Lannisters. The vexing Queen, the smug Kingslayer, the antagonizing Imp, and the pompous Prince Prick (Joffrey). When he looked at the eyes she shared with them, he worried that she was playing him for a fool, the uncertainty made him uncomfortable and cautious.

He ignored the half-man standing in front of him, he turned his head to the other man besides him. He spoke loud and clearly, "any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell."

Tyrion cocked a brow, "any man of the Night's Watch, but not I, eh, boy?"

"I'm not your boy, Lannister," he spat back, "I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"Then you might learn a lord's courtesy," Tyrion quipped, he had always had a silver-tongue. He looked around for some black hair, he still couldn't see her. That made him worry. The Starks were honorable, but he found it odd that no one would answer him the first time when he asked for her. So he asked once again. "Now, where is my niece, the princess?"

Before anyone could answer the question, in came Vorian Dayne walking with the princess. She smiled at the sight of her uncle, he returned the smile. Lyla would always smile, even at the worst of people like her mother or grandfather. She was always a welcoming sight for sore eyes.

"Hello, sweet niece. You're looking more radiant than ever, it seems like marriage agrees with you, unlike others," he commented, she laughed under her breath as he jested her husband. She wasn't angry at Robb for how he was treating her, she needed a laugh more than ever. Tyrion held tightly to her hand that she had offered, she couldn't hug him without getting her knees down on the ground. He felt the bandages around her hands. "What happened to your hands?"

"Um..." she uttered, looking up at her husband, she supposed her didn't want her to say anything. She shook her head, "just an accident, nothing to fret over."

"You have the strength of a lioness," Tyrion commented with a grin. Robb didn't like how everyone compared Lyla to a lioness, he didn't want her to be, they were enemies. Then Hodor entered with Bran Stark in his arms, Tyrion turned all his attention to the boy. His breath was taken away, "so it's true. Hello Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," Maester Ludwin quickly added.

"Curious," Tyrion thought out loud.

Robb was tiring of having a Lannister present. "Why are you here?"

Lyla shot him a look, trying to remind him that he was her family, that he should show some courtesy. Instead he kept his attention on the little lord. "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel?" He politely requestioned, before adding, "my neck is beginning to hurt."

"Kneel, Hodor," Bran instructed him.

Hodor brought him down to Tyrion's smaller stature.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," Bran answered before thinking again. "Well, I mean I did like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," Maester Ludwin informed him.

"What of it?" Tyrion questioned.

He could still remember how Lyla would cower in fear of the horses, she was terrified of the beasts and refused to be near them. That was until her Uncle Jaime took it upon himself to show her the beauty of the magnificent beasts and how to ride. She would sit in front him and he would ride with her for months before she could ride on her own. Now she road well, even better than her brother. He learned a long time ago that anyone can do anything if they set their minds to it. He learned it himself and seen plenty of others accomplish the same.

"With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple," Bran spat.

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it," Tyrion teased. He went into his gift and removed a paper. "I have a gift for you." He unraveled it and showed the plans to make a saddle fit for Bran now. "Give that to your saddler. He'll provide the rest. You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice."

"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran asked, his voice filled like childish hope that warmed Lyla's heart, he had not been this happy since he woke up.

"You will," Tyrion nodded. "On horseback you will be as tall as any of them."

"Is this some kind of trick?" Robb asked, breaking the moment, finally getting the attention of Tyrion and his wife. He didn't trust this Lannister, if he or his siblings had tried to hurt Bran, and then Lyla tries to save him and Tyrion fives him a gift, it all seemed so odd. It made no sense what game they were playing. "Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."

"You've done my brother a kindness," Robb nodded. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark.There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier," Tyrion decided, as much as he would have enjoyed the company of, but he wasn't going to seem desperate for a place to stay. If Robb didn't want him there, then he wasn't going to come begging like a dog. He had self-respect. He turned to his niece, "Lyla, be the dear that you are and see me out."

"Of course, uncle," she agreed, spiting her husband. This was her beloved uncle, she couldn't spend the night talking with him and enjoying some time together. No matter how many years she spent in the North, no matter how close she became with the Starks, there would always be a part of her that would miss the south, King's Landing, Storm's End, Casterly Rock, she would always miss her family. Her family would never be replaced. And at this moment she needed some company more now than ever before. Someone who didn't look at her that hurt her.

He lead her out while her guard followed. "Should I tell you about when I went up the wall?"

"You didn't?" She giggled, noting believing he would do it, even though he said he would.

"Lyla, I am a man of my word," he informed her, as they left the hall, "of course I did it."

Lyla wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to start with how she was already half in love with Robb Stark a month after their wedding. How Robb had been nothing but kind and attentive with her, sitting with her since she was lonely, holding her at night so she wasn't cold, and how he would kiss her like the world was ending. Tell him the truth about how her hands ended up the way they are, she wasn't sure why Robb and Maester Ludwin didn't want her uncle to know the truth. She wanted to tell him how everything changed and now she felt more alone at night then before without someone laying besides her.

She would tell them all of those things for a long time with great details, she would pour her heart out to him, tell him everything she felt she couldn't tell anyone, but she couldn't. She just stood there smiling and laughing as they walked together to the yard, they enjoyed some conversation with Vorian. She enjoyed the small time they had walking and talking with one another now, she didn't want to taint it with talk of her failing marriage or her own loneliness. They made it clear that now and always she would be the Lady of Winterfell, she would learn to accept the way it would all be from now on. She just wanted to enjoy the story of her uncle at the wall, pissing off the edge of the world. He even mentioned the bastard, Jon Snow.

"Well, I best be off," he told her, looking up at her, luckily she wasn't very tall. She looked down with her black hair starting to cover her face, she pushed it back behind her ear. She didn't feel like smiling anymore at the thought of her uncle leaving. "I wish you the best, Lyla."

"As I you, uncle," she repeated, She reached into her coat and handed him a envelope. "Would you by any chance mind delivering this letter to my mother, I miss her dearly." Whatever feelings Tyrion had towards his sister, and no matter how horrible she was, she loved her children truly.

He accepted the note with a bittersweet smile, "of course. Farewell, my dear."

She wanted to hug him, she really did. She just bit down on her lip and nodded her head with a brave look on her face. "Farewell, uncle." With that she turned and began walking to the castle.

Vorian nodded his head to Tyrion. "Lannister."

"Dayne." Tyrion replied, nodding his head in mutual respect as Vorian turned to follow the princess attentively.

As they walked away, Tyrion watched as he got onto his horse how Theon Greyjoy walked by smugly, he looked at Lyla's ass as she walked away. It didn't sit well with Tyrion as he watched him objectify his niece, who was married to Theon's lord. Now he was approaching him, likely believing that because Tyrion is a dwarf unwelcome in Winterfell means that even a hostage much like himself can take down to him. He would remind him very quickly otherwise.

"Couldn't resist some northern ass? If you like redheads, ask for Ros," Theon spoke.

"Come to see me off, Greyjoy? Kind of you. Your master doesn't seem to like Lannisters, maybe with the exception with the one who warms his bed," he joked, only half of it. He knew Theon did not take kindly to when Tyrion called Robb his master, though it was true.

"He's not my master," Theon spat.

"No, of course not. What happened here? Where is lady Stark? Why didn't she receive me?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Theon lied, Tyrion could always tell when someone was lying.

"She's not in Winterfell, is she? Where did she go?" Tyrion asked.

"My lady's whereabouts-" Theon began before being cut off by the half-man.

"My lady? Your loyalty to your captors is touching. " He said, how he spoke so formally while also having the audacity to stare at his princess in that manor. If Robert had seen that he would have been in a rage, Jaime and Vorian would take turns hacking him to pieces, and Cersei would insist on more painful torture. Tyrion decided to continue to put him in his place. "Tell me, how do you think Balon Greyjoy would feel if he could see his only surviving son has turned lackey? I still remember seeing my father's fleet burn in Lannisport. I believe your uncles were responsible?"

"Must have been a pretty sight," Theon commented.

"Nothing prettier than watching sailors burn alive," Tyrion sarcastically retorted, looking at Theon in disgust. "Yes, a great victory for your people. Shame how it all turned out."

Theon was quick on the defense, "we were outnumbered ten to one."

"A stupid rebellion then. I suppose your father realized that when your brothers died in battle. Now here you are, your enemy's squire."

"Careful, Imp," Theon warned him, as if he had any power.

"I've offended you," Tyrion said, with a grin on his face. "Forgive me, it's been a rough morning. Anyway, don't despair. I'm a constant disappointment to my own father and I've learned to live with it." As they began to prepare to ride to the brothel outside of Winterfell he threw a nice golden coin to Theon, which he caught and looked confused at. Tyrion continued, a tad smug as well. "Your next tumble with Ros is on me. I'll try not to wear her out."

Lyla and Vorian returned to the main hall, Lyla looked at Robb who was talking to Maester Ludwin. She hated how he treated her this way, but she didn't hate him. She didn't think she could ever really hate Robb, and for that she hated herself. She scratched her hands, the bandages were uncomfortable and her hands hurt (why did she have to be so stupid to have grabbed a blade?) She looked at him as he talked, when he finished and prepared to leave with Grey Wind, he looked over at his wife who watched him with worried eyes.

His eyes that she once thought looked like the clear blue sky in the warm south, from the southern Tully side of him. Although, when his met her cat-like green ones, often compared to that of emeralds often, she didn't feel affection or comfort as she once had been able to. She hoped with all her heart that it was still there, that she hadn't done anythinf wrong that changed that. She looked at him, hoping he would come to her so they could talk. But this time his gaze was ice as he walked away from her view. She looked down at her hands, not wanting Ser Vorian see how hurt she was, but he knew, he could tell she was heartbroken.

"Do you wish to speak with him, princess?" He asked.

She looked at him walk away with his wolf in toe.

_Yes._

She shook her head.

"No."


	17. Black of Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark visits the bastard children of Robert Baratheon, comparing them to his eldest trueborn.

"The former Hand did call on me, my Lord, several times. I regret to say he did not honor me with his patronage."

In all honesty, Lord Stark was not sure what he was doing at the capital. He didn't like a single thing about the city. He didn't like the smell, he didn't like how hot it was, he didn't like the people. His eldest daughter seems to be adapting well, while Arya is enjoying it much more now that she has her dancing lessons. Still, he didn't want to leave Winterfell or Catelyn. He belonged in the North, no as Hand of the King. He never would have gone if not for the need to investigate the murder of Jon Arryn, and now apparently someone had tried to kill Bran. Catelyn believes it all to be connected in some way to the Lannisters. So in secret he tried to find some proof.

The blacksmith seemed to be one of the last places he seemed to visit before his death. Odd. Jon Arryn was a man in old age, with many who would get him what he wants, why would he go out of his way to travel this way? There were so many questions on his mind currently. So many. On this day they were also hosting a tourney in honor of the king's new Hand, but he would not be attending. It was a waste of the money that the crown did not have to spend. They were deep in debt with both the Iron Bank and Lord Tywin Lannister, which made the Lannisters in control for their much sums of money. So instead of intending, he and his men too a trip to the blacksmith.

"What did Lord Arryn want?" Lord Stark asked, wanting to get to the point.

Tobho Mott nodded along, "he always came to see the boy."

"I'd like to see him as well," Ned added.

"As you wish, my Lord," the man agreed. He turned and called out for this supposed boy that Jon Arryn was so fascinated with. "Gendry!" The boy was working in the back hammering away. When he was called he begrudgingly walked over. "Here he is. Strong for his age." Ned couldn't help but stare at the young man. His skin was dirty and he was sweating as he worked with the furnace. He had black hair and the darkest blue eyes. He looked so familiar. "He works hard. Show the Hand the helmet you made, lad."

Gendry didn't say a word as he quietly walked over and grabbed a helmet. He handed it to the lord, he didn't have much courtesy, although Ned didn't mind it as many other lords would have. He looked it over. "This is fine work."

"It's not for sale," Gendry shook his head.

"Boy, this is the King's Hand! If his lordship wants the helmet-"

"I made it for me," Gendry cut him off, he was stubborn as well.

"Forgive him, my Lord," Tobho pleaded.

"There's nothing to forgive," Lord Eddard reassured them with a small grin, letting them see that all was well. He looked down at the helmet before returning to what he had been sent to the capital to do. "When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what would you talk about?" He asked the young raven-haired man.

"He just asked me questions is all, m'lord," he replied.

"What kind of questions?"

"About my work at first, if I was being treated well, if I liked it here." He turned away and then continued with a lower tone. "But then he started asking me about my mother."

"Your mother?" Ned asked, confused.

"Who she was, what she looked like," Gendry continued.

"What did you tell him?"

"She died when I was little. She had yellow hair. She'd sing to me sometimes."

"Look at me," Ned ordered.

That's when he could put the two faces together. Gendry had tried so hard to avoid eye contact with the lord, but when he did, it was undeniable. He was the very image of Robert when he was younger. The boy couldn't have been more than sixteen, no older than Lyla was, they even looked alike with their noses, black hair, and piercing gaze. He knew Robert had fathered some bastards and would father more in time, but he couldn't understand why Jon Arryn wanted to see one. The resemblance was striking. Just as Lyla looked like a Baratheon, Mya Stone from the Vale, and Edric Storm at Storm's End. All black-haired copies of Robert.

He snapped out of his gaze and his ushering thoughts about who this boy was. He knew all he was ever going to need to know about this boy for now. "Get back to work, lad," he instructed Gendry as he returned the helmet to him. He truly had done fine work and should be proud of it. As Gendry walked away, he turned to the blacksmith who had hired him. "If the day ever comes when that boy'd rather wield a sword than forge one, you send him to me." When he finished with that sentence he turned and walked back onto the hot and over crowded streets of King's Landing.

He walked over to Jory Cassel who awaited for his lordship while keeping an eye on their two white horses. "Find anything?" Jory quickly asked.

"King Robert's bastard son," Ned replied.

 

* * *

 

Maester Luwin was preoccupied at the moment. He was charged with teaching Bran his lesson while also helping his princess, Lyla. She squirmed with pain as he cleaned the cuts and she told him how she was feeling sick recently. He worried the cold was not agreeing with this southern princess, hopefully she would be strong enough to handle a small fever. Her hands were healing nicely, she would only need them for a small amount of time before she wouldn't need to use them anymore. Not that she was really listening anymore. She was thinking about how Theon was side-eyeing her while he continued to work on his archery.

Lyla liked watching Bran learn with the Maester, it reminded her of Tommen taking his lessons. Tommen was always more fascinated with the castle cats— strays that wondered around, no one cared because they ate the vermin (except Joffrey, which was probably why he killed them). Bran reminded her a bit of Tommen. They were close in age, eight and ten. Both sweet summer children. Rickon was a bit agressive when he wasn't aloof, he was different. Bran wasn't the same either, she wanted to help, but she knew there was nothing she could really do that would change the current situation with Bran.

"Bran..." Maester Luwin began, turning his attention from talking with Princess Lyla back to Bran's lesson.

Bran was quick to begin, as he started to speak on the country that Maester Luwin pointed at. This time it was the home to the most abnoxious soon-to-be lord, Theon. "The Iron Islands. Sigil... a kraken. Words... "we do not sow"."

"Lords?" The Maester asked.

"The Greyjoys," Bran quickly responded.

Theon Greyjoy, who had not been paying much attention besides occasionally turning back to them, fired another arrow at the target. He had good aim. "Famed for their skills at archery, navigation and lovemaking," he commented as he turned around and ate one of the berries they brought Lyla. He winked at her suggestively, she gawked at his attitude in disbelief (not that she was really surprised).

"And failed rebellions," Maester Luton countered, noticing Theon's crude demeanor towards the princess and soon-to-be lady of Winterfell. She smiled thankfully at him. He nodded his head,  _she's a Stark in some sense (as much as Lady Catelyn) which means he serves her as his lady, as her husband is acting lord of Winterfell._ He thought of Lyla's black hair and decided to point toward the Stormlands as the text for Bran to answer for.

Bran began again, she could tell that he was not enjoying himself with all these lessons. Nonetheless, he continued well. "Sigil... a stag. A crowned stag now that Robert's King."

"Good," the Maester encouraged.

"Words... "ours is the fury". Lords... the Baratheons."

Lyla decided to make a pass at Theon's expense now...

"Famed for our mercurial tempers, great warriors, black hair," she smirked to herself, perhaps she as well was becoming too cocky as she jested Theon. No he deserves it for making a pass at her. Whatever her current state of marriage with Robb, she would always remain truly faithful to him. She took great strive when she smirked and added, "and successful rebellions."

Bran laughed, he had a quiet and sweet laugh that a little boy should have, his whole face lit up. Even Maester Luwin, who was shaking his head in disapproval, had a small smile. Theon was not impressed though, as if he couldn't believe a princess mocked him and his house again. Though she did. With her silver tongue. He was deserved it though, she justified.

It was her silver-tongue and the way her cat-like green eyes glared that made Maester Luwin decide to point at the West.

Bran sighed and continued, the grin he was giving his good sister faded as he returned to his work. "The Westerlands... sigil... a lion."  _A lion,_ Lyla thought as she fumbled with her necklace underneath her cloak. The golden lioness necklace with emerald green eyes to represent her. And her mother. And Myrcella. And House Lannister.

"Hmm..." Maester Luwin mused.

"Words... "a Lannister always pays his debts."" Bran answered, which earned a small chuckle from Lyla.

"No," the maester scolded the little lord. Not that it was much of his fault, many thought those were the words of her mother's house. She couldn't list the many times she heard her mother, uncles, grandfather, and cousins say so. It made her father pissed at how often he heard it, but she didn't mind. "A common saying, but not their official motto."

Bran ignored the maester as he continued with his lesson. "Lords... the Lannisters."

He was quick to remind the boy, "We're still on their words."

"I don't know them," Bran admitted.  _Hear me roar_ , Lyla thought. She didn't know why, but when she looked at Bran right then, she thought of Joffrey for the first time in a while.

She didn't know why she was thinking of Joffrey. She didn't care for him, he was rotten and enjoyed emotionally, mentally, and physically abusing his older sister. Whenever she thought of him, it was because of one of the horrible things he said to her before leaving. Whether it was what he said when they were riding to Winterfell.  _I wonder if he'll turn into a wolf when he takes your maidenhood, sweet sister._ He was sick to think of how Robb could be a monster like that to scare an already startled Lyla, anxious about her upcoming wedding. It didn't help when he continued,  _we'll_ _see, when your first pup claws its way_ _out_ _of you with fur and fangs. At least they'll know it's his._ He enjoyed torturing her. Those words oddly stuck with her despite not being true. She didn't know why, but they did.

Except, this reminded her of a simpler time with her brother. Joffrey would sit with the maester or a septa. She would sit besides them pretending she was working on her needlework while she listened. She liked needlework, but she was more interested in the histories of Westeros, learning about politics and other things, and the secrets of the religion and the citadels discoveries. Joffrey was always disinterested, but Lyla would always listen. She learnt faster than him. She would answer the questions he couldn't, which prompted them to give her lessons as well because Joffrey was frustrated that his sister was more intelligent than he.

Her Uncle Tyrion praised the idea, and her mother insisted she take the lessons when Pycelle mentioned a woman should not have her face on a book. Insisting a woman couldn't do something a man could made her mother angry, so she went against him publicly by getting her daughters a lord's education, just as fine as Joffrey.

She didn't stop showing up at Joffrey's lessons, even when she got her own. She didn't know why she kept going. She supposed she liked it because Joffrey would spend a long time just reading. She liked to look at his face, just scanning over the words. He wasn't saying anything cruel to her or going something awful or making faces. It was serene. She supposed that in a way it was her fault for their fallout. She used to outshine him. He would always blow up with anger before storming out the door. She wished Edric was her trueborn brother instead, he was so much kinder and like Lyla. But she kept going for that single serene moment where she could look over and smile at her younger brother.

"You do know them," Luwin instead, "Think."

""Unbowed, unbent, unbroken"," Bran replied.

"That's House Martell," Lyla instinctually responded since she snapped out of her thoughts from the lessons in the Red Keep, none of them seemed to mind her interruptions.

""Righteous in wrath"."

"House Hornwood," Lyla stated.

""Family, duty, honor"," Bran countered.

Maester Luwin took control of his lessons again. "Those are Tully words... Your mother's. Are you playing a game?"

""Family, duty, honor"... Is that the right order?" Bran thought aloud, turning to the maester.

"You know it is."

Bran showed his true intentions by asking the most simple of questions, "Family comes first?"

They were all quiet when he said that. They all knew he was having hard time with his family all being gone. His father and sisters were in King's Landing, for a reason he knew and understood. They had to go, and no matter how sad it was, at least he knew where they were and why they had to go, they didn't abandon him. Jon, his bastard half-brother, went to the wall on duty to be a sworn brother. But Lady Catelyn had to leave with no explanation to Bran or Lyla either. She missed her own mother deeply, so in a sense she sympathized.

"Your mother had to leave Winterfell to protect the family," Luton responded, a similar answer to the one he gave Lyla.

"How can she protect the family, if she's not with her family?"

"Your mother sat by your bed for three weeks while you slept."

"And then she left!" Bran exclaimed.

Maester Luwin sighed as he tried to find the proper way to explain to Bran without ever revealing to them that there was something more to the things that happened since he fell. "When you were born, I was the one who pulled you from your mother. I placed you in her arms. From that moment until the moment she dies, she will love you. Absolutely. Fiercely."

It was a sweet sentiment.

Her Uncle Jaime said something very similar to that about her mother once, it was at Lannisport eight years ago.

They were at Casterly Rock. Usually she was only escorted by Ser Vorian but the Rock was three times the height of the Wall or the Hightower of Oldtown. It was full of tunnels, dungeons, storerooms, barracks, halls, stables, stairways, courtyards, balconies, and gardens. The Princess loved to run around and explore and her mother loved to worry endlessly, so she left the only Kingsguard she trusted to personally watch his niece. Not that Jaime was complaining. He loved Lyla, and anything was better than guarding Robert's door as he dishonored Cersei in her own home. He rather liked Lyla's free spirit.

It was when they went to the bowels of Casterly Rock, he was holding her hand protectively, she smiled up at him as he told her about how he and her mother used to play. His voice was so light as he relived such memories from simpler times before he was a knight and she was a queen. He showed her the caged lions.  _Are you afraid of the lions, princess?_ He asked her. She looked at them in marvel as she shook her head. He encouraged her to move closer, she reached her hand it and nothing happened to her. He smiled and told her how her mother would have climbed into the cage without a drop of sweat.

He held her hand as he pointed to the lioness and her cubs.  _Do you see that lioness over there with her cubs, Lyla? Male lions may have multiple partners, but this lioness had one who gave her sweet little cubs who she will love and protect fiercely until the day she is gone from this earth._ She was young, but she could understand that it was an allegory for her family. She just looked at the lioness lick her golden cub clean. She thought how prides worked. One man per pride, so he little male cubs will leave her but perhaps her lionesses would stay with her.

He looked at the little girl lost in her own thoughts and tugged her hand so she looked up at him.  _Come on, Lyla. It's dark and a bit gross here, come on, let's go to one of the gardens or walk on the rocks._ She smiled and nodded excitedly as he led her away, but she turned her head as they walked to the lioness.

"Why did she leave?" Bran asked simply.

The Maester gave Lyla a quick side glance. Anyone else would have not noticed, but due to Lyla's much spent time in court, she could always tell when people looked at her that way. It burned in her heart and her whole body, though she pretended she notice. "I still can't tell you, but she will be home soon."

"Do you know where she is now? Today?"

"No, I don't."

"Then how can you promise me she'll be home soon?"

Maester Luwin sighed once again, "Sometimes I worry you're too smart for your own good." There was silence after that. Good, it was becoming very uncomfortable like everything else since the assassination attempt on Bran. It was all silent and everyone was so secretive.

She knew something was wrong, it was connected to Bran's fall, the assassination attempt, and Lady Catelyn leaving Winterfell. It started Maester Luwin being suspicious and secretive with Lyla, Robb's distance and the ice wall he put up between them, and Theon general... she supposed he hadn't changed much. But something was odd about recent events. Curious.

 

* * *

 

"She looks like him, don't she, my Lord?" Mhaegan asks rhetorically of course, anyone could see as the prostitute.

She was a good woman, Lord a Eddard supposed from their brief interactions. She was very kind and respectful with meeting the Hand of the King and presenting him with her child. Her daughter with the king and one of his former favorite whores. He felt uncomfortable being in the brothel, but it brought him closer to his goal of finding out who killed Jon Arryn and why. He just found himself puzzled why Robert had such a fascination with Robert's bastards.

He watched as Mhaegen, a whore and now mother who could not have been older than Lyla (a woman of sixteen), who in the eyes of Robert might as well have still been his little girl, just as he saw Sansa (not much Arya in certain senses). In a way it was disgusting to Ned, but he didn't voice this opinion. Mhaegen seemed well enough and it was not his place to judge the king on his behavior when he doesn't have a crown resting on his head. Instead he looked at the babe, she truly did look like Robert, and Lyla, and Gendry. A Baratheon, even a bastard, she had the appearance they were known for.

"She has his nose, his black hair," Mhaegen explained.

"Aye," Ned confirmed as he just watched her rock the babe with her eyes closed, but he knew they were likely blue.

"Tell him when you see him, m'lord," she pleaded respectfully. "If it please you... Tell him how beautiful she is."

"I will," he nodded.

"And tell him I've been with no one else. I swear it, my Lord, by the old gods and new. I don't want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me."

It was sweet that she cared for the king so, but from seeing his marriage with Cersei Lannister, he could see that Robert did not love her. He had not loved a woman since Lyanna. But she didn't have the heart to tell the woman, so he said nothing on the subject. He wasn't going to crush this young mother's hopes. He acknowledged Edric because he had a noble mother, but he feared he would not do the same for Barra.

"When Jon Arryn came to visit you, what did he want?"

"He wasn't that sort of man, m'lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy, healthy."

He supposed she reminded him of Lyla when she was just a babe. He road south when she was presented to court. It was six months after her birth because she has been very ill after being born and how long it took to ride. She was the only one of his children he rode to see. And a sight it was.

Queen Cersei held her most of the time, but when she was being introduced, it was Robert who held her with a large grin on his face. Lyla's name was a bit scandalous because of the similarities between her name and Lyanna. The queen pretended as if she didn't hear the whispers. Ned was the first to see her when he was called over to her chambers.

Robert stood there looking over her as the babe reached over and held his finger with both her hands as she gurgled. She was only six months but very small, smaller than Robb or Jon were. She was a black-haired beauty. Her hair was long and covered her head and covered her ears. Her eyes were very bright and too big for we face. She had a two teeth came in. She would hold her father's finger and try to put it in her mouth, but he just laughed and resisted while offed her a bit with his strenagth. She was calm and quiet, but she would laugh. He laugh made Robert's smile brighter than anything Robert had seen in years. She was twice as beautiful as Mya Stone, and Robert loved her much more. He was glad to see him love someone as much as he loved Lyla.

They just stood there and casually conversed about all that had happened between the two men since the last time they saw one another. About their wives, life as King and Lord of Winterfell, and finally about their children. That was the first, but not last, time he suggested Ned's eldest son Robb should be married to the young princess. He was speechless and quiet as usual. He looked at the beauty coo for her father to hold her. She was so small, so innocent to the woos of the world. It would be many years before she could be wed. So he simply muttered that it was possible.

Sixteen years passed from that day and here he was watching another one of his babes resting quietly with a head of black hairs. Robert finally got what he wanted, now she was wed to Robb and it would not be long before she would likely have her first child. How time had finally passed them all.

"She looks healthy enough to me." He smiled as he not only remembered a young Lyla, but remembered holding his own girls in his arms. Sansa who was born with many red hairs and was always quiet. Or Arya who was small and always fussy. He smiled at the memories as he held little Barra's hand with his and looked at the mother. "The girl shall want for nothing," he promised Mhaegen before leaving.


	18. Mother Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei agonizes over the loss of her daughter.

_She felt nothing but pain and agony trying to birth her firstborn. The birth was painful, perhaps the only part of having children she disliked. Making the child was fun (had it not been Robert), carrying the child within her was something akin to a religious experience for her, but the birth was hell. In the thirteen hours she was in labour, Cersei came to the conclusion, that the ultimate torture was childbirth. She vowed during the eighth hour to never have children again. By the tenth she was begging for death._

_"Push harder Your Grace. The babe is almost here!" said Maester Pycelle._

**_You said that nearly an hour ago, you grey-sunken cunt!_ ** _Cersei thought._ **** _With one final push of pain and hope she let out. But then it was over._

_"Congratulations Your Grace. A healthy girl, a-and  th-the first prince-ess."_

_"Hand her here Maester I want to see my daughter," Cersei demanded._

_The maester placed her perfect little girl in her arms, and Cersei cried tears of pure joy. She'd thought carrying the child inside her was amazing, but holding her in her arms was life affirming. As she looked down at his face, she saw Robert Baratheon in her face. She was silent, which worried her, but she was lively. Little pink arms flailing and grabbing hold of her hair, legs kicking out as they had whilst he was inside her. Green eyes bright and wide, cat-like and identical to think of her mother's, and the little tuft of already thick black hair was slicked close to her head._

**_She'll be like Robert in some regard. Grabbing my teats when he needs them. But she won't be him, I know it. She'll be a Lannister, my little lioness._ **

_Jaime looked at him with such curious eyes. "She looks_ _like_ _Robert alright," he said, stating the obvious like a fool."But she does have some of the Lannister look within_ _her_ _." he added._

_Cersei just smiled, "of course she does, she's perfect."_

_As Robert came into the chambers, he presented her with both a stag and lion pelt. He laughed loudly at the sight of his daughter, taking him in such wonderment that she didn't think possible. Her babe had captured what was left of the king's heart._

_Soon, they came into blows as to what to name realm's first Baratheon princess._

_A part of Cersei had desired to name her daughter after her Lady Mother, Joanna. But she didn't want to feel sadness every time she said the name of her daughter, so she never suggested the name aloud._

_Robert had a similar idea and wanted to name the babe after his Lady Mother, Cassana, but Cersei convinced him that the name would bring bad fortune upon their daughter._

_Alysanne was a name Cersei favored towards, but the name was of the Good Queen, and Robert hated all things Targaryen. Even the shortened Alys was out of the question._

_All suggestions came to an end when Robert decided her name without anymore suggestions or objections, it was also the moment that everything turned to ashes._

_"Lyla."_

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry your marriage to Ned Stark didn't work out. You seemed so good together."

Robert turned from his drinking to face his wife of seventeen years. She was standing at the door looking at him mockingly. He believed she feasted off his misery now. He would have ignored her, but that had never done him any good in the past, she would always come back. She would always want more. She would continue and she would rave about every choice he made. So he learned to make compromises to make her satisfied. When Cersei was angry about the name he picked for Lyla, he allowed her to name the next three as he cared less the more that came along. When Cersei was contempt, life was easier for the king, and easier meant quieter.

"I'm glad I could do something to make you happy."

"Without a Hand, everything will fall to pieces."

"I suppose this is where you tell me to give the job to your brother Jaime," Robert asked, knowing she wanted him to do so before they left for Winterfell when Jon Arryn died.

"No," Cersei quickly responded. She had changed her plans of making the Lannistwrs the strongest in King's Landing. She needed Robert's friendship with Ned Stark to stand, so when Joffrey is king, Robb Stark will have a place on the small council so that Lyla may return to court. And Jaime neither wanted the title or was fit for the responsibilities, he was far too aloof to help run seven kingdoms. "He's not serious enough. I'll say this for Ned Stark - he's serious enough."

She sat down opposite her husband and poured herself a cup of wine. A love for wine was perhaps the only thing they shared. She never found herself caring for wine before her marriage to Robert. She was like Lyla, who disliked the bitter taste, but with time she liked when it burned her throat. She drank a lot. Not as much as Tyrion, she was a queen not a degenerate, she never got drunk like her husband or younger brother. She watched the red-faced Robert still on his legs (she wondered how they held up his fat) deep in thought.

"Was it really worth it? Losing him this way?" Cersei asked.

"I don't know," he responded honestly, he did many things but Cersei believes he has never lied to her once. He was not secretive with his indiscretions. Not that it pleased her either. She wouldn't mind knowing, but it was that everyone in all seven kingdoms knew how he dishonored her. "But I do know this, if the Targaryen girl convinces her horse-lord husband to invade and the Dothraki horde crosses The Narrow Sea... We won't be able to stop them."

She sighed at the statement. "The Dothraki don't sail. Every child knows that. They don't have discipline. They don't have armor. They don't have siege weapons."

He turned and gave her a very undermining tone, the way he always spoke to her without a hint of warmth, even after all these years. "It's a neat little trick you do, you move your lips and your father's voice comes out."

"Is my father wrong?" She cocked her brow.

"Let's say Viserys Targaryen lands with forty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. We hole up in our castles, a wise move. Only a fool would meet the Dothraki in an open field. They leave us in our castles. They go from town to town, looting and burning, killing every man who can't hide behind a stone wall, stealing all our crops and livestock, enslaving all our women and children. How long do the people of the Seven Kingdoms stand behind their absentee King, their cowardly King hiding behind high walls? When do the people decide that Viserys Targaryen is the rightful monarch after all?"

"We still outnumber them," she stated, taking a drink of her wine. She didn't like being outsmarted.

"Which is the bigger number -- five or one?" He asked.

She was annoyed, but decided to humor her husband by giving him the obvious answer. "Five."

"Five..." he nodded, holding up his hand with all five fingers extended. "One," then he clenched his fist. "One army, a real army, united behind one leader with one purpose." She hated when he managed to outsmart her, so she took another sip of wine as he continued. "Our purpose died with the Mad King. Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse. And everybody wants something different. Your father wants to own the world. Ned Stark wants to run away and bury his head in the snow."

Cersei asked, "what do you want?"

He held up his cup of wine and laughed as he flopped down into his chair. Gods, he was fat.

"We haven't had a real fight in nine years," Robert commented, the only thing he loved more than his whores and wine was his fighting. He loved war. He wasn't fit to be a peacetime ruler. "Back-stabbing doesn't prepare you for a fight. And that's all the realm is now, back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing. Sometimes I don't know what holds it together."

"Our marriage," she responded.

They started to laugh together.

They had both come to terms that they were both dissatisfied with this marriage, they both understood. Cersei could find herself able to laugh at the idea that the marriage was such a failure. She supposed it made sense with the prophecy.

"Ah, so here we sit, seventeen years later, holding it all together. Don't you get tired?"

"Every day," she sighed.

"How long can hate hold a thing together?"

"Well, seventeen years is quite a long time."

"Yes, it is."

"Yes, it tis," Cersei repeated, taking a drink. That's when a haunting thought came onto her mind. A burning question that just came out when she opened her mouth, she almost wished she could have taken it back. "What was she like?"

Robert quickly understood who she meant by  _she_. You could see the pain on his face and how it translated into his voice. "You've never asked about her, not once. Why not?"

"At first, just saying her name, even in private felt like I was breathing life back into her. I thought if I didn't talk about her, she'd just fade away for you. Then you gave our firstborn a name so close to hers, I realized that wasn't going to happen, I refused to ask out of spite. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I cared enough to ask. And eventually it became clear that my spite didn't mean anything to you, as far as I could tell, you actually enjoyed it."

"So why now?" He spat.

"What harm could Lyanna Stark's ghost do to either of us that we haven't done to each other a hundred times over?"

Robert looked up at her husband in a certain way that made her taken aback, the look on his face was indescribable. Maybe pained and frustrated. "You want to know the horrible truth? I can't even remember what she looked like. I only know she was the one thing I ever wanted... Someone took her away from me, and Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind."

Cersei was quiet for a long time after that.

She wanted to mention the child he gave him, well children. She would have lied. She allowed herself to only give him one child, which she was happy was a girl. She was happy to deny him a true Baratheon heir. One day, her son, not his, would sit upon the Iron Throne. Fully Lannister, all future kings would descend from Lannister blood and not Baratheon. But she gave him a daughter he loved more than breathing air. She supposed that should have counted for something.

Years ago she married him, and she adored him. He was so handsome and strong, all hers. They could have had a marry marriage, she liked to believe, if it had not been for Lyanna Stark. She wished the Wolf bitch never existed. The Starks stole everything from her. Lyanna was dead but stole Robert's heart and left her with the shell of this disgusting man, and then they stole Lyla to the North, and one day she would have Sansa Stark as the queen instead of her. She cursed House Stark under her breath sometimes. She looked down and cursed Lyanna Stark once more with not words but her own silent sorrow before glancing up at Robert again.

"I felt something for you once, you know?"

"I know," he quietly affirmed.

"Especially after we had Lyla— for quite a while, actually." She almost smiled to herself for the moments she considered the best on her marriage. They all faded away like a burned out flame. She looked at him with glossy eyes. "Was it ever possible for us? Was there ever a time, ever a... moment?"

"No," he simply replied.

She was quiet. Did she expect some other answer? Of course that was always going to be his answer. A part of her always excepted that, but another one foolishly had hope.

"Does that make you feel better or worse?" He asked.

She looked down at her wine and took a sip.

"It doesn't make me feel anything."

She stood up and left the room to be alone.

 

* * *

 

_Cersei had lost faith she would have a good marriage to Robert a long time ago. Maybe that was what fueled her to have her next three children by her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister. They were blonde beauties with cat-like green eyes. She feared that Robert had learnt to truth when she noticed how differently he treated Joffrey, his heir, and Lyla, his firstborn child. But Robert was an idiot. He was no more aware of the truth of three of his children's parentage._

_She could have forgiven his idiocy if not for his biggest mistake. For years he had suggested that Lyla should one day marry the eldest son of Ned Stark, but she always insisted Lyla was far too young to even be discussing the possibilities of a betrothal. So the conversation would end there. He had not seen or spoke to Lord Stark in years after the sack on King's Landing when her father took the city for her husband, she had nothing to fear that one day her daughter would never have to marry some northern lordling and have her taken away._

_Then the Greyjoys decided to rebel. When their rebellions was crushed, her father threw a tourney in Lannisport. Lord Stark was forced to stay because of he was going to take the hostage Theon Greyjoy to Winterfell with him. There Robert preformed his final act of idiocy in the never ending attempt to infuriate or embarrass Cersei by going behind his back and introducing Lyla to Lord Stark. They secretly made a plot, and at the tourneys end with Jaime winning the joust. Her husband chose to make an announcement._

_"I, King Robert of the House Baratheon, hereby proclaim the betrothal between Lyla of the House Baratheon and Robb of the House Stark."_

_Robert had done many things in the past that he believed was best for their family (her family, not his) or maybe just to annoy her. Everything from suggesting that his bastard daughter from the Vale should be allowed to come to court, being caught bedding a woman in the marriage bed of Stannis's wedding, bring Lyla and Joffrey along his stupid hunts, and now this secret betrothal that not even the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had known about. Saying Cersei was furious would be an understatement to the rage she released on her husband when the two of them were behind close doors._

_Sweet Lyla was so young and innocent, she knew it meant one day she would have to marry this boy she had never met. She simply looked up at Lord Stark like she was trying to imagine what his son must have looked like. She just responded with;_

_"Will I be Lady of Winterfell?" She knew all the titles held by the great houses. She was a clever girl. Her father nodded proudly._

_The girl smiled because Robert loved smiles, so she always smiled around him if it meant she could bask in her father's affections. Cersei on the other hand was far from smiling as she glared at the two men in disgust. They were going to take her daughter away just like that. Lyla was only eight years old, far too young to be promised off like that. When Cersei voiced her opinion, it went in vain._

_Robert had suggested Lyla could foster at Winterfell, act as ward to Lady Stark so she could learn the ways of the North as well as her to know her betrothed, and they would wed when they both came of age._

_Cersei was not going to let them take her firstborn away like that. Instead she mentioned that Lyla should remain in King's Landing as Lord Stark is already bringing a "ward" back to Winterfell with him. Her husband was not in the mood to argue with his wife anymore than he already had. Lord Eddard agreed with the queen as he saw Cersei and Robert were ready to tear at one another, he did not want to be the cause of any martial discord. But the damage was already done._

_When they were in closed quarters, they finally had a fight with one another. The yells could be heard through the castle._

_"How could you challenge me like that in front of all those lords like that?! I am the king, and I have made it clear that Lyla will marry the Stark heir!"_

_"Not as long as I am alive will I allow you to send_ **_my_ ** _daughter off like some kind of brood mare," Cersei countered._

_"She is my daughter as well, and the Starks are a noble House, we will finally be bound my blood. Ned says his son is like him, she will find no better than," he told her, clearly missing why she was angry about this. It didn't matter what man they gave Lyla to, she didn't want to ever have to give up_ **_her_ ** _daughter,_ **_her_ ** _firstborn child._

_Cersei spoke with so much venom it seemed like her words were enough to poison the king. "You will not take away_ **_my_ ** _daughter, you pathetic man! She is_ **_mine_ ** _! I will have you killed before I let you take her away from me, do you hear me? She is-"_

_With that he smacked her across the face to silence her. She gasped as he knocked the air right out of her. She held her cheek that stung sharply. She stood tall and proud like a lioness, not letting him see how much he hurt her with that powerful blow. Robert looked down at her as he tried to belittle her into submission. Cersei was fighting a losing battle, she knew. But she could not simply sit back and watch her daughter be given away. Not like she was to Robert Baratheon. She never wanted either Lyla or Myrcella to know what she had learnt. They belonged with their mother, the only one capable of truly loving them. Another painful lesson she learnt during her marriage to Robert._

_"I am the king, and I have made my will known, you don't have to like it, but I will not have you openly oppose me as well. Do you understand?" He questioned. She didn't respond. He didn't deserve any satisfaction thinking that he won over the lioness. He could believe it all he wanted, but soon enough, a Lannister always pays her debts._

_Cersei stormed out of her room, that's when another door opened, and out poked the head of her little girl. Her eyes were glossed over as if she was about to cry, she was trembling with fear as she looked up at her mother. Cersei's fury rested as she worried about her daughter who had overheard the fight between her mother and father. Cersei prayed to the gods that the dark hid the scar Robert had graced her face with._

_"Mother, are you and father alright? I heard—" she trailed off, bowing her head in embarrassment and a bit of fear for what her mother would say about Lyla listening instead of sleeping like all her siblings did. She looked up with her glossy eyes, threatening to break out into tears. "Is it because of me, I heard father say and take about my betrothal."_

_"No, no, no, my love, nothing is your fault," she lied. "Come on, to bed with you. In the morning Uncle Jaime and Ser Vorian will take you and Myrcella swimming."_

_Cersei would have never allowed for those two to take her daughters swimming, Jaime suggested the idea when they first arrived in the Westerlands. They could jump off the rocks and splash around at the Joffrey didn't want to go swimming, he didn't like to spend time with his sisters. Myrcella, who was only four years old, was excited to spend time with her older sister and favorite uncle swimming in the ocean, Myrcella loved the ocean and everything it included. But Cersei wouldn't let her daughters go to the dangerous waters, not after the incident that happened a long time ago._

_Lyla shook her head. "I can't sleep."_

_Cersei took her hand and lead her into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She picked up her daughter with all the strength in her arms she had and laid down with her in Lyla's head as she started to rub her daughters black hair as Lyla's little arms wrapped around her mother as she looked at her mother's golden locks that comforted her in some way she closed her eyes and the tears rolled down as she hid herself in her mother's arms. Cersei has tears at the brink of her eyes as well._

_She simply held her daughter and promised her. "I will not let them take you away, sweetling. I will sooner have them all killed. You are mine."Lyla did not find comfort in the threat to her beloved father and the Stark family. She had never met them but she didn't want them to be harmed. She still hugged her mother because she knew her mother needed it, for it was Lyla who comforted the queen that night._

_"I love you, mama," Lyla uttered in a silent coo, she called her the name she hadn't called her since she was five._

_It reminded Cersei of how she said that to her own mother when she died. Cersei never got to have a mother as long as Lyla has, she held her daughter tighter. "I love you too, Lyla. I love you so much."_


	19. Heartbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marriage of Robb and Lyla comes to its first fight.

Robb was overlooking the paperwork he had started to have to do for his father was still in King's Landing and his mother could be anywhere in the realm. It was quite a bit of work, but he was the heir of Winterfell, he had to be ready for all this work for one day it would be his duty. He was alone with the quiet and lost in his own thoughts as he wrote until the door opened and Lyla came barging in.

"Explain now!" She demanded as she walked in and smacked her arm down on the table with anger, she has a paper in her hands with a lion sigil hanging off it.

A letter sent from the Lannisters, how did Ludwin let her have it. This would not end well. She was as furious as the Baratheons were famed for, Robb was a bit startled by her new attitude, much different than she had acted for the past weeks. He just sat and watched her in awe as she glared down at him. He looked at her hands still wrapped in bandages, she was covering up the pain she had inflicted upon herself so he could not see how it pained her. But he worried that she had genuinely hurt herself.

He didn't know what could have made Lyla so angry or what he had to explain to her, or why it made her this angry. The last time he saw her this angry was when he caught her slapping the crown prince, finally putting that little prick into his place. Besides that she was usually very pleasant, smiling and being very kind and avoiding conflict with a graceful nature. That all changed now. He looked her in the eyes, they were both graced with the eyes of their mother's rather than fathers, Tully blue for a Stark Lord and Lannister green for a Baratheon Princess. He rose to his feet and met her gaze, only now standing taller than the princess.

"What do you want me to explain?" He looked at the note in her hands and took it, "and when did you receive this?"

"Apparently it came for me days ago, sent by my Uncle Jaime from Casterly Rock. He fled there after a confrontation with your father outside a brothel," she stated, throwing her arms in the air to express her anger towards her husband.

Robb was angered by her choice of words, she could be angry and raise her voice, but she could not make it sound as if his house was to blame for this issue.

"You mean after your Uncle attacked my father, and butchered his men, and left my father bleeding in the streets with a spear in his leg?" He questioned, remembering how they sent word of his father's attack and the deaths of many Winterfell guards, the most notable being Jory Cassel.

"I am sorry, I would have never wished for anyone to have died or be injured, especially Lord Stark. He is my good-father," she confessed, her tone and expression softened for a moment as she gave sincere condolences for the loss of their men.

When they first received news, Theon suggested he call his banners to war, but he knew he couldn't even if he wanted to.

He watched as her eyes became as sharp as ever. "But none of this would have happened if my Uncle Tyrion wasn't attacked on the Kingsroad by none other than Lady Stark. Tell me, my lord husband, is that why you would not tell me why Lady Catelyn had left Winterfell? Because she was planning to take my dearest uncle? Why would she do such a thing, take a lord, a  _Lannister,_  and expect nothing to happen?"

He couldn't answer her question. Instead she continued and held up the letter.

"According to my uncle Jaime, my grandfather is  _furious_! Whatever reason you are thinking of to justify why your mother took my other uncle doesn't change the fact that your mother has just became an enemy to House Lannister. My grandfather is not only the most wealthiest man in Westeros, he is the most powerful."

She held he letter out and began to read snippets of it to her husband while he tried to find any explanation. All he could think of was that she deserved, no needed, to know the truth behind this all. Robb wasn't lying to her, he told himself to feel better, withholding the truth perhaps. But looking at her talk to him for the first time in a long time with so much venom made him feel horrible.

 _"He is sending the Mountain that rides and other men to attack the villages in the R_ _i_ _verlands to send a message to House Tully and Catelyn Stark until Tyrion is returned....your mother, the queen, is furious and is demanding blood...if they have harmed him than I will return the favor...a Lannister always pays his debts,"_ she read before looking at Robb with a look of disbelief, "what in the seven hells was your mother thinking? Please tell me why. Is this why you have been acting so odd ? You were planning on attacking my family?" Her lip trembled in fear of his answer.

He finally snapped and said something. "Hardly, your family is attacking mine. Your uncle has killed our men and has left my father wounded. Not to mention what your uncle must have done." There was silence after that, he was about to tell her the truth. Her stood upright and the tension left her body.

"What did my uncle do?" She asked.

"It's not—"

"What did my uncle  _do_?" She insisted this time, it was not as much as a question as a demand.

He looked at her desperate eyes. Her beautiful eyes. His whole body soften as he looked at her trembling lips, the look in her eyes, how he noticed how he had distanced himself from her. How he hated it. He wanted to pull her to him. But she would not accept him after how he acted. So he decided to start with finally telling his wife the truth, the whole truth.

"My mother found a blonde hair in the tower that Bran fell from and the dagger was made of fine Valyrian steel, she believes a Lannister may have tried to have my brother killed. She went to King's Landing to warn my father herself. Now she must have figured out it was your Uncle Tyrion and took him to justice as she should," he confessed.

She looked shock by all he told her, she shook her head violently in disbelief. Her black hairs moved with her. She moved even farther away as she looked at her bandaged hands. She looked at her husband.

"My Uncle Tyrion would never, could never harmed a young boy. Never. You saw him when he arrived at Winterfell, baring gifts. He helped Jon Snow, your brother, at the Wall. He defended your family from Joffrey. He is a good man despite any other flaws. I swear it on the old gods and the new, he did not push Bran out that window."

He didn't know what to say, everything she said made perfect sense to him as he thought about it. But then who else could the hair have belonged to if not the imp? Could it have been the queen or the kingslayer who tried to have Bran killed. He would have guessed the kingslayer, he was an oathbreaker and a man with no honor and openly attacked his father on the streets. But he watched how Lyla breathed heavily and clenched her fists although it hurt. This was her family he was talking about. He knew it was hard for her to hear that they could have done something to hurt Bran. But it was the truth.

"Is that why you—" she didn't finish the sentence, but he knew what she was talking of. She was asking if this was the reason he had started to distance himself from his wife. She couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore as he eyes remained on the floor. "Because you thought I could have—"

Robb wanted to reach out to her as he could feel her pain in her words, he wanted to hold her and apologize. He started to speak the best he could to explain his unjustified actions. "I didn't know if you—"

She cut him off quickly. "I don't want excuses, my lord."

"I didn't know if I could trust you or if your loyalties were up House Lannister rather than mine," he answered.

She looked at him with disbelief. She has lived in the North for so long now. It was still so odd to her, but honestly, it felt like being a Lannister was always going to make her an outsider. _I am a Baratheon,_ she wanted to yell as loud as possible. She wanted to tell it so loud her grandfather Tywin would hear in Casterly Rock. So loud the Targaryens in Essos would hear. She didn't know why for a second she ever thought she could change her name like Lady Catelyn had, to finally become Lyla Stark instead of Lyla Baratheon when even her husband could not see the loyalty she had to his house.  _His._ Apparently not hers. Fine, she will stay a Baratheon.

She turned and stormed off without hearing another word for her husband, now she would be ignoring him as he helplessly wondered what he had done wrong. She just bite her lip and remained herself of what he mother said, that men were not worth her tears, that they shouldn't think they have broken a lioness. No matter how much it hurt.

 

* * *

 

She didn't talk to Robb for the rest of that afternoon, she was furious with him. Learning the bullshit reason he was treating her as if she wasn't his wife. The only person she could talk with was Ser Vorian, who agreed that her treatment was horrible, and offered to hurt him. Whether it was a meaningless threat or not, she didn't care. She didn't want to hurt him, not truly. That was the worst part, no matter how horrible he is been treating her recently she couldn't bring herself to hate Robb, her husband. Quite the opposite.

She loved her husband.

At least she believed she loved her husband, in the best way she could describe love was how she felt for Robb.

She had never felt anything like this before. How he held her hand, touched her, looked her in the eyes, kissed her.

She was certain she loved him.

That's what made it even worse. She loved a man who had been treating her horribly. She wanted to be with him even when she thought he didn't want to be with her. She assumed it had to be something that was her fault. Was it that she was yet to give him a child? Did she not please him in bed or as a companion? Or was her just bored of her? Apparently it was not her fault and she cried for no reason because he was an ass for treating her that way. She started to remember all the things her mother said about how love makes you weak.

Robb respected her enough apparently to listen to her wishes as he left her be. She didn't want to look at him she was so angry. So he decided to take Bran out so he could ride his horse—  _Dreamer_ , for the first time with the saddle her uncle modeled for him. She would have loved to ride with him, but Robb and Theon were planning to go and she didn't want to look at either of them. So she told Bran some other time she would go riding with him. Rickon wanted to go but he was in trouble for biting a woman. He had been acting aggressive recently, biting, kicking, and screaming. Not to mention the crying and running away. So Lyla stayed with him and planned to take care of him with special attention he deserved.

She took him to the Great Hall so they could have a snack together. She showed him how to break open a nut the way her father used to show her when he was at a hunt. He copied and laughed as he smashed the nuts open and gobbled them up. Lyla enjoyed some honey cakes that she shared with Rickon who had the bad habit of talking with a mouth full of food. She laughed and pinched at his cheeks playfully until he closed his mouth to chew. He smiled at her as began to pinch at her cheeks which made her tickle his stomach so he would stop.

Rickon was not so aggressive or sad when you have him the attention he wanted, she observed, mayhaps that was the problem. With Lord Stark and his daughter's riding south, Bran being crippled, Robb acting as Lord of Winterfell, and Lady Catelyn gone as well, he must have been confused. In some ways she understood, so she just smiled and tried to support him and give him the attention she used to give Tommen when she still lived in the Red Keep.

After a long conversation with Rickon, he wanted to see Shaggydog. His direwolf was more aggressive than the rest, just like Rickon, they had to chain him because he would often act out and need to be fought back into submission by Grey Wind. She held Rickon's hand while he placed the leash around Shaggy's head and he decided he wanted to walk him around. They walked around Winterfell together for a while, she wanted to tell him the truth about his mother, but she decided it wasn't her place to tell him, he wouldn't understand any better than she did.

"Look!" Rickon announced, pointing at the gates that was opening, but while doing so he dropped the leash.

"Rickon, don't drop the leash, we don't want Shaggy to wander away," she scolded the boy, grabbing the leash for him. She turned and noticed the gates opening and in came a Theon leading a horse, Robb carrying Bran, and they were leading in a woman with a knife to her. She dropped the leash.

Shaggy took off then, which made Rickon call out to him and then chase after him. Lyla would have followed after him, but she didn't want to run, she couldn't. Instead she decided to make her way to Bran who was no longer glopping happily on his horse. She didn't even bother to inspect the woman or even look up to her husband as she rushed over to the boy in his arms. Bran seemed alright, but there was blood coming from his leg, she touched his leg and got some blood on her bandages, and the other hand went to rub his cheek.

"Bran, are you alright?" Lyla questioned.

"Um hum," Bran hummed passively.

She looked up and her eyes met with her husbands. She looked at he horse with the broken legs on the saddle and some woman who was dressed in rags and wild hair. Then she looked back at Robb, "what happened?"

"Bran was attacked by a band of wildlings," Robb explained. When she looked at the woman, she was from beyond the wall like her mother and Septa used to say. Wildlings, they had no laws and were rapists, thieves, murders, and cannibals. She didn't feel comfortable being around her, but now she wondered what happened to her companions as she is now alone. She looked at Robb. Did he?

"Are you alright?" Lyla quietly asked her husband.

He was almost surprised before quickly answering. "Yes."

"Good," she moved her hand to ruffle Bran's hair. The boy had been through quite a lot. The fall, the assassin, now wildlings. What was happening in Westeros?


	20. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla thinks about the turn of events.

Lyla didn't want to forgive Robb. Neither could she bring herself to resent him nor hate him.

Was it because she believed that she loved him? Or was it because of that part inside of her that badly wanted this marriage to be different from her parents. She didn't want resentment that would grow to hatred, where they cannot even bring themselves to yell at one another anymore. But what about these feelings she was growing for her husband. The types of feelings she hoped would have grown to make her certain that they would have the love many lords can grow for their lady wives. 

Yet how could she forgive him when he did not trust her. That he believed she would have done something so horrible as have known about Bran's accident (or attempted murder— she was still not sure whether it was planned). While she may have thought things, that it was possible that a member of her family could have tried. But how could he just accuse them of that and keep her here as if she was a hostage. It made her want to scream. She had no one to talk to anymore. She couldn't even write to her family, she was too scared.

Today she laid in her bed alone when she woke up. She just laid there for a while in her dark blue colored nightgown with her black hair spread out on the bed and her body huddled up into a fetal position as her stomach roared and she felt horrible. She clutched onto the covers that no longer covered her body that was burning up as she quietly whined.

It stopped after a while and she was able to calm her body as she rolled onto her back and clutched her stomach. Everything was okay. Okay... Her hands were feeling better. The Maester (who she too did not want to look in the eyes anymore since he too did not trust her and attempted to deceive her) mentioned that her hands were almost fully healed. Good. She was tired of the bandages and ready to not feel stings when touching things. But it wasn't her hands that was hurting her now.

Could it have truly been a Lannister who pushed Bran out of that window and hired an assassin?

She supposed it could have been. But Bran didn't remember a thing when he woke up, and she would not dare ask.

Could her family have truly broken the guest right and kill a young defenseless boy? What for? Why would they?

She didn't want to believe it. No one wanted to believe such horrible thoughts, no matter how true they likely are. She knew others saw her family different from how she did, but she was not so naive that she didn't notice their obvious flaws.

She loved her mother who protected and loved her in a way only a mother could, despite being cruel and vicious.  _"I will not let them take you away, sweetling. I will sooner have them all killed. You are mine."_ She wasn't afraid of her mother, she didn't dislike her despite her many flaws, because she was her mother. Their bond was one that none other could understand. Not just mother and daughter, but a mother's firstborn.

Her father was a whoremonger and drunkard, but he cared about her and in his own way showed how much he cared about her more than anyone else and only wanted what was best for her.  _"I'm so glad I didn't drink and whore myself to death before I could manage to see you off to a good husband. I hope you know."_ Those words on her wedding night meant the world to her. She laughed then, but it was sweet that he cared enough to want her to have the best he could do.

Her Uncle Jaime was the man with no honor and an oathbreaker as well as a kingslayer. He kept his distance from his nieces and nephews, but never Lyla. It was always the small things she appreciated.  _"Get sleep, Lyla."_ He always wished her a goodnight with a kiss on her head or a hug. He taught her how to ride a horse when she was too afraid. He doted and cared for her like a true knight in her eyes.

And then there was her Uncle Tyrion. Where other people saw him as deformed, monstrous, and an urchin. Everyone thought horrible of the man because he was a dwarf.  _"Hello, sweet niece. You're looking more radiant than ever, it seems like marriage agrees with you..."_ But she was able to see his true nature. He was intelligent, witty, and compassionate (the trait many Lannisters lack). By far he was the best Lannister in many ways.

She could not bring herself to believe that they would do this. Perhaps they were cruel and arrogant, but never outside of reason and necessity. What reason could hey have to want to kill poor Bran Stark? A sweet boy who never harmed another?

She sat up and moved her hair out of her face and decided to prepare herself for the day. Before she had two handmaidens and her ladies-in-waiting to help her. Her ladies were Lannister distant cousins and ladies from the Stormlands (her uncle Renly's bannerman's daughters). She supposed she could have called them her friends, but that wouldn't have been the truth, they were only there to win the favor of the princess, telling her what she wanted, and occasionally spying on behalf of the queen on the princesses location and activities. She thinks she has only had a hand of friends in her life.

Ser Barristan Selmy, always chosen to guard her and protect her from harms way. Ser Loras Tyrell, who was her uncle Renly's squire turned a knight of the court, often accompanying her on rides and favoring her in a tourney. Her handmaiden from age two to eleven, Fae. Ser Vorian Dayne, her sworn sword who protected her since the day they met and swore himself to her and her alone. And her bastard half-brother, Edric.

Lyla had no friends in the North. She thought she did, but instead she found herself once again alone in the sea of those who did not trust her and she could not trust either.

She stripped herself of her nightgown and changed into her small clothes. She changed into a faded lime and cream white dress and darker faded lime cloak to match. She brushed her own hair and braided the top sides of her head to keep the hair out of her face. She slipped on her shoes and rubbed some perfume from the south on her neck and arm.

She looked at her golden lion necklace for the longest time without blinking or moving. It was a gift from her mother to her daughters, there were only three like it in the world; hers, her mother's, and Myrcella's. It was the only thing that made her feel at home. Maybe she should wear it to spite her husband for mistrusting her, but she too feared that if she acted in such a way, she would be dooming herself into a loveless marriage like her parents. How her parents lived to simply spite one another constantly.

She thought of herself, older with a sour look on her face holding a chalice of wine. She thought of Robb with a fat belly, thick beard (his was coming in rather fine now) untamed, and red faced. Though she doubted that would be how they would appear, like her parents. Robb looked a fair amount like his uncle Edmure she had seen once at a tourney. She looked a lot like her mother, and when she didn't smile with the bitter look she had been wearing for days now, she would see her mother in her mirror. That scared her. As much as she loved her mother, she didn't want to become her.

She decided not to wear the necklace. It meant the world to her simply. When she looked at it, she remembered a time before she knew much. Ignorance was bliss to young Lyla. It was a symbol of her mother's love and protection, and a constant reminder to be strong. She supposed she was a woman with a lot of pride. A lioness and not a doe.

When she thought of pride and lions, she thought of her Uncle kidnapped on the Kingsroad. She would have never imagined the honorable Starks would act in a way, kidnapping an innocent man to bring to their own "justice" instead of answering to the king's. He couldn't imagine her grandfather was happy about it, despite his indifference to Tyrion, he always told her about the bloodline and the importance of a family's legacy.

 _The Starks did not know what they have done by angering the Old Lion_ , Ser Vorian told her. The Dornish were all too familiar with Lord Tywin's vengefulness.

That was the end of her thoughts, a long contemplation on her life and all that happened around her now. About her family, the Starks, Robb, and finally herself. She knew something horrible was to happen in Westeros soon enough. Her father believed it had been peaceful for far too long, if the new Hand of the King, Lord Stark, did not handle the matter well enough as Lord Arryn would, there could perhaps be a war between the Lannisters and the Starks, the Baratheons by oath would have to support the Lannisters, but as well to the Starks. She prayed to the Seven to prevent such an event.

As she prepared herself to eat, the very notion of food made her feel ill as she clasped her stomach in discomfort.

No, not discomfort, it was something else.

Before Lyla could think, she ran to the emptied chamber pot throwing herself to the ground as she emptied her stomach. It was painful as she had barely anything in her stomach. She held back her hair but soon enough it was over and she was left ghosting over the pot trembling.

What was happening?


	21. The Longest Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess has always had a fondness for riding.

**King's Landing - 291 AL, nine years ago**

_Lyla clapped her hands as hard as she could with a smile permanently spread across her face, today all eyes were on her, which meant she had to let them all see "what a pretty princess" she was. Today they were all celebrating her seventh name day with a tourney, her father's favorite. He wasn't riding, but many knights of the Westerlands, Stormlands, and Crownlands were going to be riding for the young princess, including her uncle, Ser Jamie Lannister of the Kingsguard._

_When her uncle won; there was clapping from maidens who giggled at how handsome the knight was, his reputation for being handsome transcended that of his reputation as a kingslayer in the eyes of maidens. There was laughing from the rich men who were smart enough to bet on Ser Jaime, they would be leaving with their pants filled with coin, one being her Uncle Tyrion, who always bet on family and was well drunk. Lyla, her five year old brother Joffrey, and three year old sister Myrcella, were all happy with his victory as he rode past them and removed his helmet to reveal his long golden hair._

_He rode up to the young princess as she tried to fight her giggling to behave like a proper princess that her handmaiden Fae always told her that she had to be._

_"I hope my victory pleased you, my princess," he teased her._

_"You rode very well, Uncle Jaime," she praised him, as well as a seven year old could articulate. He smiled at how she tried to pronounce the words like her mother would. He rubbed her head, ruffling all those black hairs on her head. She reached to touch his horse._

_"Come now, Lyla," her father ordered._

_"Yes, father," Lyla nodded towards him, she always strived to be an obedient daughter to win her father's favor since she was not born a son. She turned back to her uncle with her usual smile- as she knew he wanted to see her smile, "pardon me, Uncle Jaime."_

_"The king is waiting, I'll see you at dinner, dear niece," Jaime excused her kindly as a proper knight should. Jaime was always closest to his black-haired niece than to the golden-haired prince and princess._

_Lyla rose up from her seat, with her handmaiden Fae followed closely behind her, as she followed behind her father, Ser Barristan (who always gave her the kindest smiles and greeted her), and Ser Meryn Trant (who she never liked for his mean face). Fae smiled, as if she knew where they were going, which made Lyla smile at the older woman- she couldn't have been older than her twenties, Lyla suspected. Lyla kept her hands to her side, flower crown on properly, and made sure to keep her golden and blue wrap-dress stayed unruffled._

_Lyla wondered where her father was taking her as they walked besides each other in silence. Soon enough they arrived at the stables._

_"Lyla do you remember when you saw your Uncle Renly come in with that fancy stead of his?" Her father questioned, bending down to meet her gaze. She nodded. "I believe you're old enough to learn how to ride, princess," he finished as a stable boy walked over with a white mare which caused the princess to gasp in awe._

_"Oh, father," she nearly squealed almost unladylike as she wrap her arms around her father. He lifted her up and spun her around, his laughter could be heard throughout the castle while she giggled lightly. Lyla had stolen the King's heart from the moment she was born, which made the old knight Barristan and the lowborn handmaiden Fae smile at the view of the love shared between father and daughter. She pulled away and looked at her father. "I love her father!"_

_"Only the best for the princess," he announced. "Want to give her a name?" To which the princess nodded._

_"Stormy." It was a childish choice that had everything to do with the fact that House Baratheon hailed from the Stormlands._

_She turned and looked at her father as she rested her hands on his shoulder as he held her on a hip to keep her upright. "Father, will you teach me how to ride?" She questioned._

_"You can learn from the knight like your brother does," her father concluded, her smile faded a bit, she wanted to spend more time with her father and she hated Joffrey. He put worms down her dress, pushed her, and told her scary stories that made her cry. She didn't like many of the knights of the Kingsguard. Many of them were quiet and hardly noticed the princess. The only ones she liked were her Uncle Jaime and Ser Barristan. She wanted her father to teach her to ride._

_"But father, I want you to teach me," she insisted._

_"Lyla," he warned her. "A knight of the Kingsguard will-"_

_"I don't want a knight of the Kingsguard to teach me! I want you to teach me, father!" She screamed like a spoiled child._

_"LYLA, you will learn from a knight that is final!" Robert roared._

_Lyla went silent as she felt tears threaten her face. She never meant to speak out of turn or act like a brat, she just wanted to spend more time with her father, she hardly saw him because her mother claimed he was very busy with his kingly duties. Lyla loved her father very much, but she only saw him in the rare event he ate with her and her mother, formal occasions, and sometimes in the castle. She just wanted to learn from her father who she heard was an incredible warrior. He didn't have to yell at her like that. It scarred her and made her nearly cry._

_Fae quickly came over to the king. "Apologizes, your grace, I believe the princess is tired from the tourney, allow me to take her to her room."_

_He set Lyla down on the ground, he refused to look at his daughter anymore, but her emerald eyes never left him for a second. He didn't even look at Fae. "I think it best you do."_

_Fae took Lyla's hand and walked her quickly to her room. Lyla tried her hardest not to cry. Repeating what her mother had told her all before. That no man ever wanted to see her cry, that it was a sign of weakness and that if she must cry she had to keep it private. Lyla sniffled as hard as she could. Fae held her hand gently as they quickly hurried across the castle and into the princess's bedroom._

_Fae closed the door and looked at the little sniffling girl. "Oh my princess," Fae cooed softly, sitting down on her knees, cupping the princess's face with her thin hands. Lyla refused to meet her maid's eyes. She was so ashamed of her behavior and too prideful to allow herself to cry. She stood there trembling remembering how he raised his voice at her. She cursed him, cursed the knights, cursed this whole kingdom. "Princess, please," Fae continued, forcing her to look at her._

_Fae was pretty, in a lowborn way Lyla supposed. She had a round face, brown eyes, curly brown hair that went to her shoulders, and thin lips. Not nearly as beautiful as the queen, Lyla's mother, but rather pretty. She had Fae as her handmaiden for five years, they were so close, she was like a second mother since her mother became busy with Myrcella and spent most of her time raising the crown prince. Fae was always there for her. She hated to have to let Fae see Lyla's glossed over eyes. Once she looked at the maid, she could not look away as she but her lip._

_"W-w-w," was all that Lyla could mumble as she tried to hold in her tears. She took in a sharp breath as she tried to gather her wits. She looked backwards to stop the tears from flowing as she continued to mumble over her sentences. "W-why d d did he yell at me?" She sniffled loudly and looked at Fae with her wet eyes that were too big for her face that made her look like a doll. "D-does f-f-father hate me?"_

_"No, of course not. No one could ever hate you, princess," Fae promised, running a hand up and down the little girls back. In all honesty, Fae knew what the princess did not: about King Robert's rage, his whoring, his drinking. She could never tell this to the young princess, who loved her father so much, what kind of a man he truly was. But it was hard for Fae to lie to the princess like this. "Your father didn't mean to scare you. He is very busy, being the king has many duties that demand of him constantly. It doesn't mean he hates you. He loves you very much."_

_"No," Lyla insisted stubbornly, "he hates me, he hates me. If you love someone you do not yell at them, only when you hate them..."_

_Fae rubbed her back and watched as the princess struggled to hold her tears in. "You can cry princess, it will make you feel better."_

_"No, I can't," Lyla spat._

_"And why not?"_

_"Mother said crying was for babes and weaklings. I am neither. I am seven and the princess of the Seven Kingdoms." She looked down at her hands. "She said that I can only cry in private. That no one wanted to see me cry, they only wanted my smiles. That I couldn't let anyone see me weak nor vulnerable. That I was a girl and I need to be strong because the world already assumes me weak already without wvidence." She kept trying to hold the tears to the point it hurt with her nose beginning to run down her dress and sharp painful breaths._

_Fae was shocked to hear what the queen had been teaching the young princess, she was far too young to learn something as absurd as crying was only for the weak. She could never speak ill of the vengeful queen. So instead she tried to think hard as she got down on her knees in front of the young princess who had been so cheerful, trying to be the best princess for her family and the realm, she was but a mere child. Perhaps Fae was the only one who saw it, or the only one who cared enough to._

_"I do not know about what your mother taught you," she began softly, pushing Lyla's hair behind her ears. "But when you are with me, or someone you feel safe with," Fae lifted her chin so they would look at one another, causing Lyla to have two thin tears roll down her face, "it is okay to cry, because they will be there to comfort you through the pain, and stay once you are better."_

_Lyla only half understood what Fae was telling her, but was enough to give her the strength to wrap her arms around her maid's shoulders and began weeping aloud. She help back nothing as she cried, sure that perhaps the whole court would hear her, but it mattered not. Fae held her back fiercely, rubbing her back and kissing her head telling her that it was okay to cry and that she was there for her._

 

* * *

 

 

**Winterfell -** **300** **AL, now**

"So, how was your ride before the attack?" Lyla asked Bran. It has been the afternoon, the day after his attack in the forest, and the morning she had felt very ill. Lyla still wanted to check on the boy and make sure that he was alright. She could never tell with Bran anymore, perhaps it would be because he was bitter about his fall, no longer being able to walk at his own will, or that half his family was missing while he had been asleep. He was confused and a little angry. But more than that, he would just remain silent not saying a thing.

"Good, the saddle works," he simply dismissed it.

"Is that all?" Lyla raised a brow.

"It is," Bran nodded, not meeting her gaze as she stared down at his own hands as he sat on his bed with her seated besides him. He looked at her skeptical large green eyes and sighed a bit before continuing. "I rode alone for a bit, easy enough. The saddle makes me feel like I'm myself again."

"You haven't been feeling like yourself?"

He was quiet again, he was thinking of an appropriate response to the question that wouldn't be the obvious–  _no, I'm a cripple._ He just kept looking at his hands while he responded, "no, mother and father are gone and I know father was going to leave anyways to be your father's Hand, but I was supposed to go with him, I wanted to meet Ser Barristan the Bold and become a knight of the Kingsguard just like him, and now I can't, I can't even wield a sword. And no one will tell me where my mother is or why she left Winterfell."

Lyla felt herself take in a sharp breath. She knew where Lady Catelyn was, or rather where she was and what she had done, currently she had no idea where Lady Catelyn could be. She could be across the Narrow Sea by now.  But she knew her good mother has taken her dearest uncle hostage and nearly started a war between House Stark and House Lannister. She only became aware to this by finding a note in Maester Luwins room when she came to get a potion for her sickness. They had been hiding her messages from her family.

 _I didn't know if I could trust you or if your loyalties were up House Lannister rather than mine._  Robb's words echoed through mind, they stung even now. She understood that it was not wise to trust a woman he had only known for months, but that he knew her so little that she would have had a part in Bran's accident or in his attempted assassination later on was absurd. She looked at Bran and didn't know to tell him that his mother was out starting a war and that his brother was having marital issues, but she didn't want to lie to him either, so she told him the best lie, the truth. "No one will tell me either."

"Winterfell isn't the same. None of it is," he frowned.

"Maybe that can be a good thing," Lyla suggested.

"How?"

"I don't know," Lyla shrugged her shoulders.

"Then why did you say it could be a good thing if you don't even know how it can be that good thing. It doesn't make any sense," Bran whined, like the child he was.

"I just do, good things will happen to you Bran Stark, I swear, even when bad things happen, there will be good."

"Like what?"

She frowned as they made eye contact and he ruined his lip, knowing he shouldn't have asked.

"Sorry."

That's when the door creaked open to reveal a little boy waiting at the door with a small pout on his face.

"What are you doing there, Rickon?" Bran asked.

Of course, the youngest Stark, Rickon. The youngest Stark always seemed to have a pout on his face and his sad blue eyes. He had been so happy and always laughing upon their arrival at Winterfell, trying to keep up with Bran and Tommen who had become quick friends upon their arrival. Now Rickon was always either sad and crying, or aggressive and violent. He would either be wondering off with Shaggydog or clinging to Robb or Lyla's leg. This was on exception, Rickon came running straight towards her and roughly climbed to her leg.

She didn't mind Rickon following her, honestly she loved feeling as though she had a little brother again after having a tearful goodbye with sweet Tommen. Rickon could be very sweet, she spent a fair amount of time with him due in part robber anger at Robb, distain for Theon, and Bran's recovery. Rickon only ate when with her, she went on walks with him and Shaggydog, and sometimes she would be sitting reading or doing some needlework and Rickon would cuddle against her and ask her a million questions or just listen to her read or hum a little song from the south he was unfamiliar with.

She rubbed his little curls as he gave his brother a small glare, not that he was angry with Bran, Rickon had been giving everyone a glare, even the ones that he liked.

"Robb was busy with lord business and Theon said that I had to bugger off and play with the children."

"And where are these children?" Bran asked.

"Here," Rickon responded, sounding very annoyed by how obvious it seemed to him.  _Children? There was only one child._

"Bran, it's alright, Rickon can talk with us."

"About what?" Bran asked.

"Yeah, what?" Rickon tried to copy his older brother.

She thought for a moment.

"Rickon do you remember what I told you about making a name for yourself?" Lyla asked the boy.

"Yes, that you promised we could go to Skagos and I could ride the goat monster, but that I couldn't go yet because the people in Skagos are giant cave people who like to eat little lordlings, but I can go when I am bigger because I'll be able to beat them all away," Rickon explained, to a certain amount of accuracy.

"I believe I said it in better words, such as that you can ride the unicorn and not a goat monster," Lyla corrected the little boy who was just giggling. "What I meant is that there are still many adventures to still be had Bran," she insisted, rubbing his knee lightly with a reassuring look on her face. "You can go to visit your brother, Jon, at the wall one day. He'll let you look down from the height lest place in the world. You can go to the capital for Sansa and Joffrey's wedding, you can ride down the Kingsroad like everyone else, Bran." He looked away.

"I like the goat monster adventure better," Rickon interrupted.

"It's a unicorn, Rickon," Lyla insisted, turning her attention to the smaller and more insisted boy who gripped her shirts.

"They should call it a goat monster, what you said sounded more like a goat monster than a unicorn."

She took a deep breath and decided not to fight him about whether or not it was a unicorn or a goat monster. Instead she turned to the other little boy who was playing with his fingers and trying not to look at her. She couldn't imagine how difficult it was for him to be able to move like they could. Lyla feared she was overstepping when she had these talks with Bran, but his mother shouldn't have left him like this.

She smiled and rubbed his cheek, "do you want to go for a ride, Bran, get some fresh air outside of these walls."

"But Robb-"

"Leave your brother to me," Lyla cut him off. "Ser Vorian can accompany us, and the direwolves. And with Rickon there too, I'm more afraid for the wildlings and bears." Bran chuckled at Lyla's little jap, while Rickon made a little growling noise.

"Call Hodor, Bran, and Rickon you can go tell the stable boys to prepare four horses alright?" She asked, they both nodded. "I will go inform Robb of our departure." She gave Bran another little rub before standing up to allow the boys to do what she had asked of them. She prepared herself to talk with her husband who she had previously tried to avoid having long conversations with after what he had done.

She didn't hate Robb, not the way that her father and mother did, or even the way her Uncle Stannis despised his wife Lady Selyse. She didn't hate him at all, but he didn't trust of her, lied to her, and then made her believe that she was the problem, as though she was not being a good wife to him and a fine lady to him someday. She was more disappointed, he had been such a good man and a sweet husband before. Was it all a lie? Was he more like her brother, Joffrey, with fake charms hiding a cruel reality underneath. No. He wasn't as bad as Joffrey.

Men were disappointments, she believed her mother told her once, all of them, husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, all of them were disappointing in one way or another. It was a ridiculous claim, she believed when she was a child. But every once in a while a man would show himself to have disappoint the princess. But they weren't disappointments per say. And it was such a bitter and cynical thought that Lyla tried to ignore.

Then she arrived in front of the door of her husband, she tried to find the strength and courage to knock. She thought of how fearless and brave many Baratheons has been before her, all to the Last Storm Queen who locked herself in her castle and named herself queen when Aegon the Dragon took the seven kingdoms. It took a betrayal to make her bend. Their house words, sigil, and even their famous features–  _black hair and blue eyes–_ came from her. With that she could knock, even if it was too light to have been heard. But he did.

"Enter."

Lyla opened the doors to look at her husband at his desk.

When he looked up at her, a tad bit surprised to see his wife standing before him, blue eyes sparkling up at her.

_Seven hells, why must he be so handsome?_

"Lyla," he began, so softly it was almost a whisper. "I haven't seen you this morning when we were supposed to break our fast."She found herself looking at the floor mumbling like a blushing maiden, she couldn't look him in the eyes. Damn.

"I was feeling ill this morning, my lord, when I felt better I wanted to check on your brother, I was worried about Bran. He is getting better but his spirits are low. Rickon and I cheered him up a bit today," Lyla replied. He seemed worried at the mention at how she had been ill.

"They adore you," Robb informed her, "you have a way with children, your very good with them."

"Thank you, my lord," she nodded, turning her head up to meet his eyes as his equal now to end the small talk and get to her point. "Bran, Rickon, and I are going on a ride around the grounds, Ser Vorian will be accompanying us," she spoke, clearly and calmly without falter as she had been taught as a noblewoman.

"I don't believe that is a wise decision," Robb countered.

"And why not?" Lyla retorted, raising her brow. "Ser Vorian is one of the best knights in the seven kingdoms, we will be very safe, your brothers know the grounds, and I am a very experienced rider." Lyla had learnt it was rude to speak in that manner to a lord, from her Septa of course, but she had seen her mother throw that lesson into the wind millions of time in the past, she was sure she could do the same. And she felt very bitter, very bitter. "Why, do you not  _trust_ me?"

She shouldn't have said it, but she did not regret it.

Robb seemed loss for words, stunned into complete silence. She could see the pain she caused and felt bad, but not guilty. She just turned around to no longer face him.

"I simply came to inform you were we would be, not to ask for your permission, my lord," she concluded, as she exited.

 

* * *

 

 

**Storm's End - 294 AL, six years ago**

_Lyla returned to Storm's End, where she saw her Uncle Renly, a man of nineteen now, was now acting as Lord and lord paramount of the Stormlands. She loved her Uncle Renly dearly, her father even planned on offering him a position on the small council as the Master of Laws, meaning if he accepted, her Uncle would love in the Red Keep with her. Perhaps she likes Uncle Renly best because her Uncle Jaime was always busy with his duties as a member of the Kingsguard, she wasn't allowed to be around her Uncle Tyrion when he was drunk (which was almost always) and her Uncle Stannis was very grumpy, she had never seen him happy in all ten years of her life. Uncle Renly was friendly and made her feel special._

_Upon their arrival, she spent most of her time with Loras Tyrell, her uncle's squire, a lad of fourteen. Thankfully her mother chose to remain in King's Landing during this journey, it allowed Lyla the chance to spend time with her baseborn brother, Edric Storm. She liked him a lot more than Joffrey, he looked a lot like her and they were very similar despite not being raised together. Edric was nicer and good natured albeit proud and fierce, where Joffrey was cruel and sadistic. Loras was much older than the two, but a very chivalrous young lad._

_"So you are betrothed, sister?" Edric questioned._

_"Yes," Princess Lyla simply replied, "can we talk about anything else. I know nothing of my intended but his name. Let's talk about anything else. Perhaps about Highgarden, I've never been."_

_"You should go sometime, princess," Loras commented._

_"Perhaps the next time your father throws a lovely tourney, my kingly father may just decide to attend," Lyla shrugged._

_"You are so lucky, Lyla," Edric gushed, he had never left Storm's End, the world was not meant for bastards, no matter who fathered them. Edric was lucky that the situation of his conception was the way that it was so public, that the shame he brought on house Florent needed to be repaid by her father recognizing this Bastard. He would have a better life and most but nothing compared to his royal half-siblings._

_"I am the lucky one, brother?" Lyla questioned, "I live confined in the red keep in a city that smells like sour milk and shit. You live here, in the ancestral home of house Baratheon. Why would you ever want to go anywhere else?" She cocked an eyebrow._

_"Well you are a princess?" He joked, to which she joking punched his arm while caused him to flinch with pain. She was strong like her father and packed a mean punch she reserved for moments such as this._

_"No fair, I can't hit you back," he spat._

_"Why, because I'm trueborn?" She joked._

_"No, because your a girl," Edric retorted._

_That wasn't him another punch on the arm. Whatever they were teaching him was not effective, because the princess was able to hit him twice on the same arm without him noticing or stopping her. She was sure that she could have gone for a third hit, but decided against it._

_"I may be a girl, but your the weak one, brother."_

_"Alright, I yield, I yield," Edric laughed as he rubbed his arm. In all honesty, Edric loved his elder sister, he had siblings from his mother that he never met and ones from his father who despised him. Not Lyla, she didn't care he was baseborn. "Can we go on our ride already."_

_"Hmmm," Lyla pretended to think, looking over at Loras who was grinning and nodded his head excitedly. She placed a finger to her cheek as she pretended to be long in thought to the annoyance of her half-brother, before a large smile spread across the princess's face and she nodded excitedly. "I do believe we may go on our ride."_

_"Finally," Edric exclaimed._

_"Alright, where are the horses?" Loras questioned._

_"Ser Vorian!" Lyla called out, very unladylike._

_The dornishman walked in with two steads, the horses were prepared to ride with Vorian already having put on their saddles already. Lyla couldn't help but grin when her sworn sword came in, he was much kinder and easier to gaze upon than her brothers sworn sword Ser Sandpr Clegane who had a horrible scar and a manor that left her in a constant state of fear and dread. Vorian was kind and easy to talk to._

_"Ready, princess? From Storm's End across Shipbreakers Bay is a very long ride?" He questioned, worried._

_Lyla simply dismissed it with a smile. "I do believe I can handle myself, we can not ride the whole path, but a fair amount."_

_"Fair indeed," Vorian nodded._

_He extended a hand to help Lyla onto the horse, she accepted and got onto her horse. She was wearing her riding clothes, ones her mother hated so, but she needed for proper lessons to not damage her beautiful dresses that costed many golden dragons or gifts from her lord grandfather or Uncle Renly. Once she was properly seated on the horse, Vorian went to retrieve his own and Loras's once the two siblings were already mounted on theirs._

_Edric looked over at his sister. "I bet I can make it to the end of Shipbreakers Bay before you, Lyla."_

_"Edric," she began, preparing to lecture him like an older sister would her little brother. "I already told you that we can not race the whole bay because the size of it is far too large for us to go all the way and back before the sun would set and then father and uncle-"_

_But before she could finish, Edric took off._

_Lyla was shocked and a bit angry. "HEY, IDIOT, THATS NOT FAIR!" She announced, racing after him, refusing to lose._   
  



	22. You Win or You Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla learns the truth about her illness, and Ned confronts Cersei.

This would the moment that would play over and over in her mind for years, the moment she would never forget.

"Princess, I want to apologize to you for the delay that it has taken to inform you of the results that I have found. Initially I believed that you may have been suffering from the change in location, two months in the North can be difficult princess. Adapting to the change in climate could have resulted in a fever which could explain the sickness and the over sleeping. Stress from a young marriage, and.... difficulties regarding your houses.... but after more observation and with my past experiences as a Maester and the tests I have preformed, I can say with certainty that you are with child, my princess."

Luwin kept speaking but Lyla had stopped listening. His calm and quiet voice just kept ringing in her mind.  _I can say with certainty that you are with child. I can say with certainty that you are with child. I can say with certainty that you are with child. With child. With child. With child._ She felt ill once more, she tried to clutch her stomach before she remembered their was a child growing within there. Her eyes were ringing and her eyes felt as though she was blinking too fast. She couldn't even think clearly as thoughts filled her mind too rapidly.

_After you give the Stark boy an heir, and your brother is king, you will come back to court, to your family, and be free of that wretched place._

It was her mother who told this. It was some plan to get her daughter back. It was ludicrous. A plan to have her brought back to court after having her first child, her mother figured that Joffrey could give his brother some small Council job to bring them to the capital where Cersei could steal her daughter back. She knew how possessive her mother was of her children, it was clear enough for anyone to see. And as ludicrous as the plan was, all Lyla wanted right now was her mother.

She wanted her mother to tell her that she was strong and that she would be alright. When Lyla flowered she had the longest talk with her mother, they talked like adults as they were both women now. She told her how she never had a mother, that she had this talk with a Septa but knew all that she needed to, but she always felt this void without her mother, and she never wanted Lyla to feel that way, she always wanted her to know she had a mother, and that one day Lyla would understand the bond between a mother and her daughter when she had her own one day, which on that day she was capable of having.

It was a sweet story when she was a girl, but the story filled her with dread when she discovered the chances she would lose her child or lose her life. Her grandmother had a dwarf child and died having him, she loved her Uncle Tyrion and a dwarf child did not scare her, but dying on the birthing bed did. Her Uncle Stannis's lady wife, Lady Selyse, had three stillborn boys and only could have one sickly girl, sweet Shireen. And Lady Lysa Arryn, Robb's aunt through his mother, had multiple miscarriages and stillborn children and one sickly boy, Robin. And both women were mad. She feared having a child.

She wanted her mother to tell her how she had four children and survived them all, assure her that Lyla was her daughter and a lioness who was strong enough to have this child.

_We'll see, when your first pup claws its way of you with fur and fangs. At least they'll know it's his._

Joffrey's words were cruel and untrue, but that didn't change how his words made her feel. He constant fear she would lose her life or the pain of losing a child. She didn't want any of it, she was scared, she wasn't allowed to be, she wasn't supposed to be scared. But she was more scared than she had ever been in her entire life. A million thoughts ran through her mind.

"Princess?" Maester Luwin called her attention.

"Hmm," she turned her attention back to him.

"My lady, you're crying."

She hadn't even realized that she was crying, but when she placed her hand on her cheek there were tears running down her face for no reason. She felt so ridiculous sitting in the Maesters study while crying, she was not a child who scrapped their knee, she was a woman who had been told she was having a child. She should be joyous that she would be a mother or at least satisfied she completed her role as a lady wife. Instead she was crying and felt never more like a child.

"Apologies, maester," she quickly commented and rubbed her eyes gently and looked down at her hands. "I was just startled with the news, I don't usually..." she didn't finish her sentence as she wiped her face she started laughing just a bit, she was so confused and so scared. "This is wonderful news."

It was not wonderful news. Even if she could have a child, what life would she be able to give this child? With how her marriage with Robb was failing, she wondered if she had done it and they would be exactly like her mother and father. While she loved them both, the one thing she wanted was to never have a marriage like her parents. And that had failed just as she would be preparing to bring a child into the world.

"Princess, if I may," he began softly. "I delivered all the Stark children, and I saw Lady Catelyn through when she was carrying the children, this is all natural, it is normal to be scared of having your first child," Maester Luwin reaffirmed her, but she didn't feel as comfortable around him anymore after learning he had been withholding her messages and lied to her as well. He continued, "my princess, I can promise you you that no harm will come of this child."

She gave him a dishonest smile that she had been practicing for years before even arriving in Winterfell. "Thank you, Maester Luwin, would you please excuse me?" She asked.

"Of course, princess," Luwin nodded.

She rose, gently, she was carrying a child, the future warden of the North, a thought that did not leave her mind. She stopped walking just as her mind went to her child. She wanted to be the one who read the letter all of King's Landing would hear of to announce her pregnancy. The one her father would have been so proud to hear he was to share a grandchild with Ned Stark, her mother would likely want to flee to be by Lyla's side, her siblings would be overjoyed, and her uncles would begin showering her in presents for the child.

"Maester Luwin, may I send the letter to my father to announce that I am with child. I believe it my place, no just as his daughter and the princess, but also the mother of this child," she reasoned, as she saw how skeptical he was, he had bee withholding information from her, and she feared her mother would never read the letter she sent with her Uncle Tyrion. She wanted them to know she was fine, by her hand or by her words. "And, I will tell Robb when I see fit."

He looked down as though he was trying to hold in an argument as he would have wanted to inform his future lord he was expecting a child, but he could not find an argument worth making. Word to the Lannisters that their princess was carrying an heir for the north may prevent a war after all. Who better to discourage them from marching north than Lyla.

"Of course, princess."

She nodded and exited. She would quickly write a letter to her father and mother, but she would take her time to tell Robb that she was mothering his first child already. He would wait, just as he had made her for a month with his secrets.

 

* * *

 

It was not hard to see how Lord Stark dislikes King's Landing.

He disliked the smell, smoke, sweat, and shit. He disliked the heat, he had always lived in the colder lands of Westeros such as Winterfell and even when he fostered at the Eyrie. More than anything he disliked the people of this city. Everyone worked for someone else. Others words meant nothing, there was no sense of loyalty or honor, two values Ned Stark held highly. They were all liars and treacherous.

The garden in King's Landing was not that bad, Ned supposed. He could almost see the beauty that Sansa enjoyed so much. He remembered how heartbroken she had been with his decision to end her betrothal to the prince, they were already tied to house Baratheon, and if his suspension were true, Joffrey was no Baratheon. She would be mad for some time, but he was sure that soon enough she would understand. All he could think of was Robert and returning home.

Lord Eddard was so consumed with his thoughts that he did not hear as someone walked over in front of him.

"You're in pain," a voice spoke.

He looked up at the queen and his face remained the same, although he couldn't bare to look at her knowing what she had done. But he remained calm. "I've had worse, my lady."

Cersei was not as subtle with her intentions however. "Perhaps it's time to go home." It was no secret she had always wanted him to leave. "The South doesn't seem to agree with you."

Fuck subtlety.

"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for."

Cersei cocked a brow, "do you, Lord Stark? Is that why you called me here, to pose me riddles?"

Ned looked at the deep purple bruise on the queen's cheek. It stood out in her beauty. He remembered how shocked he was to see his friend hit his wife with such disrespect. He knew the king was not fond of his wife, as sh was not of him, but he had not imagined he would do something such as this.

"Has he done this before?" Ned asked her, perhaps curious.

Cersei looked away, perhaps ashamed she could not stand up for herself, or melancholic. "Jaime would have killed him."

He knew she blamed him for the confrontation on the street that lead to her brother fleeing. "Your brother killed my men."

"My brother is worth a thousand of your men."

"Your brother... Or your lover?"

Cersei looked down once more. She was always afraid this day would come that someone would learn of her secret affair with her brother. She did not regret it and it was not a choice she would change if given the chance. But when she looked at Ned Stark she knew their was nothing she could do to keep him from revealing the truth, and no lie that could convince him. He was too honorable to trust a Lannister, even a Lannister who had given her daughter away to his heir.

That left only the truth.

"The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for three hundred years to keep bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together."

"My son saw you with him," Ned concluded, remembering what Catelyn had told him. Tyrion was innocent, it must have been Jaime who pushed Bran from that window.

Cersei had not want to speak on that, she had already spoken enough to Jaime on the matter, and it was irrelevant to the main issue she would be facing. "Do you love your children?"

Ned was taken aback a bit by the queen's question, but he did not like his love for his children to be questioned.

"With all my heart."

"No more than I love mine."

"And they are all Jaime's."

"All except Lyla, obviously," Cersei spat at the statement, she had no shame to claim that she had three beautiful babes from her brother. She often wondered if he would learn the truth. "And thank the Gods. In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning, he doesn't remember. An event that could not be prevented on the night of our wedding when he sired his only trueborn child."

"You've always hated him," Ned Stark retorted.

Ned began to worry for Robb, the wife that he had left his son, she was the daughter of Robert, not born of incest, but he wondered if she was as false and vile like her mother. Yet the marriage could not be annulled, it would be a slight to Robert.

Cersei's face twisted and churned.

"Hated him? I worshiped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear, "Lyanna". Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me. Then he named our beautiful trueborn daughter after her, like salt in the wound. To be reminded of her every time I spoke my own daughters name, to look and wonder if he wished she had been her daughter rather than mine. I could not give him more."

Cersei looked down at her hands for a moment. Thoughts of her daughter hurt. She had not written to her in five months.

"When the King returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then. You and your children. Lyla is to remain at Winterfell as she is his trueborn daughter as promised. As for your brothers, I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you."

"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?" Cersei countered, she would not be scared away, she knew the dangers she would face one day when she had Jaime's children. Lord Stark did well for a while, but he would lose, he was too damn honorable. "You should have taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day King's Landing fell. He was sitting in the Iron Throne and you made him give it up. All you needed to do was climb the steps yourself. Such a sad mistake."

Ned Stark could remember that day clearly when the city fell. He was haunted by that day everyday he was in this city of that day and what he had seen. "I've made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn't one of them."

"Oh, but it was. When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

And with that, Queen Cersei walked off.

 

* * *

 

Vorian had been told by his princess to deliver a letter to the maesters study, he didn't know what the letter could have been about but apparently it was to be addressed to her father and mother in King's Landing with important news. She had been very ill recently, and when she returned from Maester Luwin's study that morning, she was not very happy, he wondered what he told her that removed her smile and caused her to be lost in her thoughts she would forget he was even standing there. He would have prayed for her health, but he didn't pray.

When Vorian walked past the stables when he noticed the wildling woman walking with her chained legs, messy hair, and dirty face. He remembered when she first arrived at Winterfell, he had seen a wildling before, unimportant where, but he wondered why they would bring one to Winterfell. He already thought it odd they would give her mercy after she and her companions (who were now dead) threatened Bran Stark. He would have ignored her but as she fell and dropped her straw, he saw Theon Greyjoy enter behind her.

"You're a very lucky girl. Do you know that? Where I come from, we don't show mercy to criminals. Where I come from, if someone like you attacked a little lord, at low tide we'd lay you on your back on the beach, your hands and feet chained to four stakes. The sea would come in closer and closer. You'd see death creeping toward you a few inches at a time."

She was not intimidated by he way the kraken lordling spoke to her. Of course not, wildlings didn't have have to serve anyone, she knew not of his importance nor did it matter what little importance would matter to her even had she know. "Where is it you come from?"

"The Iron Islands."

"They far away?" Osha asked, displaying her ignorance to the seven kingdoms beyond the wall she lived behind.

"You've never heard of the Iron Islands?" The kraken pompously questioned.

"Trust me, you've never heard where I'm from neither."

"Trust me, My Lord," Theon corrected her as he walked over to her. Vorian wasn't even sure why he was watching but he almost couldn't look away, perhaps in disgust. Whether or not she was a wildling, he hated the Greyjoy boys arrogance. "You're not living in the wilderness anymore.In civilized lands, you refer to your betters by their proper titles."

Once more Theon's condescending tones had no affects on the wildling woman as she simply turned away. "And what's that?"

"Lord."

"Why?"

"Why?" Theron repeated, once again shocked at the possibilities of another persons lack of understanding. Or perhaps that she wasn't quivering at fear at what little powers the title of lord of the Iron Islands held that would one day be his, if he ever left Winterfell. "What do you mean why? My father is Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands."

He was so proud of his father, speaking his name and title as if it meant something. Something he saw the children of many lords and ladies. Even Lyla. Though he wondered how anyone could be proud to be of House Greyjoy. He was the son of a vassal house, but House Dayne had always been an ancient and honorable house, Ser Davos Dayne even became Queen Nymeria's third husband, and Lady Dyanna Dayne was even wed to King Maekar Targaryen, and mothered Aegon the Unlikely. The Greyjoy's were squids pretending to be krakens.

"What's that got to do with you?" Osha countered, once again not caring about his rank or her imprisonment. Instead she left Theon Greyjoy speechless as she continued with a somewhat smile across her face as she spoke. "If your father's lord, how can you be lord too?"

He managed to remain somewhat calm as he continued to explain, "I will be lord after my father."

She did not wait to finish before continuing to put him in his rightful place. "So you're not lord now?"

"No, you..." he attempted to defend himself before taking a break to notice what was happening. When he did he cocked a brow. "You having a go at me? Is that it?"

"I just don't understand how you Southerners do things."

"I'm not a Southerner." Nor was he a northerner, he was just an iron born lordling.

"You're from South of the wall. That makes you a Southerner to me."

With his arms behind him, walking over to her slowly until he was in front of her. He reminded him a tad bit of Prince Joffrey, except the prince was far worse for all the horrible things that he did to his older sister and younger siblings. But Theon was grading of his last nerve, first the endless cold now this. "You're an impudent little wench, aren't you?"

"Couldn't say,  _my lord_ ," she replied, with a clear distaste of the lordling as well as she spoke, putting emphasis on the title he had wanted her to call him, once again as she didn't care for the repercussions. Vorian wondered how it must have felt to be free North of the Wall to be this careless when talking to nobility. "Don't know what "impunent" means."

"Impudent," he corrected her. "It means rude. Disrespectful." He got down on the ground besides her, started to touch her as a hand went to her neck. "Do you want to lose that chain?"

Vorian decided to step in then.

Wildling or no, honor or not, this was simply wrong.

"Theon Greyjoy!" Vorian spoke, his voice was calm and thick with his stony dornish accent was clear. He held the letter to his side and rested it on his sword. "The lady is our guest."

Theon stood up, once again his voice and face as pompous as always. "I thought she was our prisoner."

"Are the two mutually exclusive in your experience?

Theon's face churned in agitation that he would be so disrespected by the guard of a princess like this, but what could he say, he was protected by the princess who already had Robb wrapped around her finger as he was solely focused on how she was ignoring him. Theon clenched his hands and exited, good that he finally left, it would have not been wise to start a fight of any sorts that would never end well.

"Chances are I won't be nearby the next time that happens," Vorian told the woman on the ground, "and knowing boys like that, it will happen again."

She all but ignored that comment and just continued, "I'm used to worse than him. I'm used to men who could chew that boy up and pick their teeth with his bones."

Vorian was about to leave to deliver that letter but he turned back once again to look down at the woman on the ground. There had been something constantly on his mind since her arrival. Wondering why she had come to Winterfell, perhaps even how she got here. It was a question no one seemed to ask as they mostly ignored her, but he would.

"Why did you come here?"

"Didn't mean to come here," she confessed, made sense, he wouldn't have wanted to come this far north if only he didn't have to. "Meant to get much further South than this."  
Both of them the same, he wanted to be south once again to Starfall sometimes, while other times perhaps King's Landing would do just fine. He hated this damn cold. "As far South as South goes, before the long night comes."

"Why?" Vorian asked as he bent down and they met one another's gaze. "What are you afraid of?"

"There's things that sleep in the day and hunt at night."

He was confused by her refusal to be more details he started to list everything he knew from north of the wall about things that sleep in the day and hunt at night that she could have any reason to fear. "Owls and Shadowcats and..."

"I'm not talking about Owls and Shadowcats."

That's when he remembered when Lyla read a book about creatures from north of the wall before coming here.

"The "things" you speak of— they've been gone for thousands of years, if they ever truly existed," Vorian countered.

"They wasn't gone, southerner," she told him, looking him in the eyes honestly. Vorian tended not to trust few people from Westeros. But there was something in her eyes he believed. "They was sleeping. And they ain't sleeping no more."

As Theon walked down the halls of Winterfell, still infuriated at all the disrespect he faced at the likes of some princess's knight and a wildling woman, when he bumped into the likes of princess Lyla. Theon would not lie that the first time he saw the princess, he was filled with envy for Robb who took her internally for himself. He even cancelled the bedding ceremony so no man would see her bare except him. He didn't even tell him anything afterwards. But he could not deny the thoughts he had of the princess from time to time.

"Be more careful, Greyjoy," she barked, clearly not as collected as she had once been for the first time since she came to Winterfell she did not have that pride in her walk and calmness in her temperament.

"Perhaps you should be," Theon countered.

"Watch your tongue, or I'll have it cut out." And with that she stormed off with a huff, sounding just like the queen.

Screw Lyla, screw Robb, screw the whole lot of them. She was in certain ways just glad to see that as she left, it was a bit visible that the princess was gaining a bit of weight. Perhaps her anger at Robb was allowing her to let herself gain more weight until her beauty would not support her fat.

The rest of the day seemed to continue the same as always with nothing of note ever happening, an ironic coldness between everyone in Winterfell until every member of house Stark and Lyla were seated at dinner in the main hall.

Robb key stealing glances at his wife, almost afraid to speak to her anymore no matter how much he wanted to. She wouldn't get mad at him in front of his brothers, he knew that. But the cold in her beautiful eyes burnt him. But he couldn't help but wonder how her recommended visit to Maester Luwin was this morning. He knew she had a letter to be sent to her father, the king, and in light of current events he decided it best to allow the letter to travel to King's Landing. Instead he wanted to know what was wrong with his wife.

"What did Maester Luwin say to you this morning, are you ill?"

Lyla met his gaze and was still for a moment.

She thought about telling him now, even with Rickon holding her hand and Bran refusing to eat at her insistence. If only because he would learn of it soon as she had already began to gain a little visible weight from her child.

"I'm fine."

And with that she placed her hand down on her stomach and looked down at the table with a simple thought on her mind.

_I am to be a mother. A mother._

 


	23. The Falling Star Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the origins of Ser Vorian.

_The one day he would never forget for the rest of his life happened during Robert's Rebellion. It was no battle. He had yet to seen battle in all his life, as the prince of Dorne chose to remain out of the war as it started from a slight against his house, and therefore all of Dorne as well._

_The day he would never forget is when he heard his sisters cries and how they echoed through Starfall's walls._

_He had been in the training yard, he wanted to be the greatest swordsman in the seven kingdoms, just as his older brother, Arthur, had been as well._

_He wanted to be worthy to take the mantle of the sword in the morning, even if he would never have it himself, he wanted to make his family proud._

_And as he thrusted his sword in a spar with the master of arms, he could hear her cries echo so clearly as though he was in the room._

_Vorian dropped his sword immediately._

_The moment he heard her screams it was all his mind could focus on. Her pain was loud and audible._

_He knew he shouldn't have dropped his sword in the fashion that he had, but how could he not when she had been in pain._

_The first thought that came to Vorian's was to run to his sister and comfort her in her time of pain._

_And so, as soon as he heard the cries, he dropped his sword and hurried down the hallway to the stairs._

_Ashara had turned from the capital before the war had officially began, when Richard and Brandon Stark were burnt and Westeros was at the cusp of war. She had been dismissed by the princess, Elia, a childhood companion of the Daynes, as a way to protect her former lady in waiting. But when she returned they learnt the lady of Starfall was carrying a child of a man she refused to tell anyone the parentage of._

_With the exceptions of Elia Martell._

_And Vorian, of course._

_There was not a secret that Ashara could keep from her younger brother. They had been inseparable growing up, with both their older brothers being sent off for fostering and their younger sister only having been born five years ago._

_They would spend all their time together playing games and even when she left for he capital, she wrote him often. While you were never supposed to chose your favorite sibling, Ashara felt like a natural choice with her kind heart and sharp wit._

_At this moment, Ashara was all that young Vorian had. His mother had passed from illness and their father died long ago, Allyria was a young girl, their older brother Damon was busy with his lordly duties as Dorne had chosen not be involved with the war yet, and Arthur was off with the crown Prince who knows where. He knew his sister needed someone at her side at this time, she had no husband by her side and the man she loved was gone. Her brother would do._

_Vorian all but threw anyone who stood in his way, as he ran the stairs to the birthing room where his sister was. When they tried to stop him at the door, he cocked a brow and sneered, before making it into the room to see his sister._

_"Vorian," his sister barley managed to whisper. He quietly and slowly walked to her side and cupped her cheek and held her hand with a weak smile on his face._

_"I'm here, Ash, just breathe," he asked her softly._

_"Vorian, I can't, it hurts too much," she cried, her eyes tearing up, and her breaths being uneven. He shook his head, refusing to believe what she was saying. "It hurts, Vorian," she begged._

_Elia had always been better assuring her with sweet words to make Ashara feel better, though she hardly was ever unsure of her actions, but when she was only the princess of Dorne could calm her by giving her sense or sweet words._

_But the princess was in Dragonstone awaiting her husbands return, likely wishing the return of her lady-in-waiting, Vorian would have to comfort his sister instead as best as he could._

_He brushed back her hair and held her hand tightly with a weak, reassuring, smile upon his face. "Court really has made you soft, sister," he teased, she tried to fight back a smile between the pain. "The Ashara I knew would leap first in the face of danger and never regretted a thing. She would laugh at your words of "I can't." She was fiercer than Arthur, the sword in the morning," he continued, eating a small grin._

_He knew it hurt her knowing the man, Stark, who left her with a child would never come. Would never care for their child. But she was glad to see that this child would have an uncle who would love this child dearly._

_"I'll be beside you, sister, I promise," he told her, holding her cheek and wiped the tears coming down from her eyes._

_"I have been promised before," she whispered weakly._

_"By a foolish man, who did not deserve you or this child, who you are better off without. I have always kept my word, and I promise that I always will," he swore._

_"I love you, Vorian," she whispered sweetly._

_"I love you too, Ash."_

_His sister would be one of the only three woman he would ever love. And he would never forget her haunting violet eyes._

_"And now push," he ordered her._

_She nodded and proceeded to push, crying out in pain._

_The next few moments where loud and quiet._

_They were serene and painful._

_And then, it was over._

 

* * *

 

_The moment he heard Ashara had died, thrown herself from the tallest tower of Starfall into the harsh waters where the body had never been found but had been witnessed by many of the castle workers, Vorian could not bare to remain at the castle he had grown up in with her in, where he had once heard her laugh, he could never remain if he could never see her smile or the glow in her bright violet eyes._

_The moment they told him, the knight in training immediately left, he did not listen to Damon orders, or the words of logic, he got on a horse and rode off as far as his stead would take him without turning back._

_He swore to never return to Starfall as long as he lived._

_He never wrote to his family as they all seemed to move on and die at the hands of that stupid war._

_His father at the Battle of Trident._

_Arthur at the battle of the Tower of Joy._

_Ashara killed herself after she lost her babe._

_His older brother Damon, married and had a son, named Edric Dayne, before he died of illness in the castle all the same._

_His sister Allyria now rules Starfall in the name of Edric until he comes of age or she marries her betrothed._

_As for Vorian..._

_A scrawny boy of thirteen found himself one day in Sunspear with the Prince Oberyn, a man of twenty-three, who too knew his grief over losing a sister. Oberyn and his sister had been friends of House Dayne for years, he did not know the Dornish prince as well as Arthur and Ashara had, but there was a sense of familiarity. Oberyn wanted to rally the Dornish lords against the Baratheons and Lannisters for vengeance. But that was quickly stopped almost as soon as it began._

_Oberyn enjoyed Vorians company very much. Afterwards the two found themselves at a brothel, as many occasions with Oberyn happened to be. They were drinking, Oberyn mostly, and groping woman, once again, mostly Oberyn. The prince must have been too drunk or lustful when he suggested that the boy act as his squire, as he enjoyed Vorians, in honesty, less than stellar company, and the boy with more anger in his tiny body than one should have, readily agreed._

_The first thing he learnt from acting as a squire for Oberyn was that he trained with his bastard daughters. He had three from three different woman which made none of them look like sisters besides having viper eyes just like their father._

_Obara Sand looked like a boy rather than a girl. She was the daughter of a whore from Old Town, and was strong for her age, she was half Vorians age but could knock him down._

_Nymeria Sand was the daughter of noblewoman of Essos, she was the most beautiful, but that was not to underestimate her._

_Tyene didn't look Dornish with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and paler skin, as her mother was a Septa. She didn't train with them, only watched, looking innocent with mischievous eyes._

_Meeting Oberyn's daughters and later other daughters that would follow lead to Vorians dislike of children. They were little brats who were practically entitled to everything and never took responsibility. He also thought they smelt weird, even the highest born children. However, he would never say something insulting about the princes children._

_He trained with Oberyn and his daughters, he followed the prince on his countless adventures across Dorne, to the Free Cities, and even witnessed the day that Oberyn and the young heir to Highgarden began a long grudge between house Martell and House Tyrell. Vorian admired the prince, from him he learnt things he had never learnt in Starfall and the prince was a well versed combatant and taught of the passions of life, and never being tied down to one location, something Vorian too wanted to live like. The prince was his mentor but also the person that he aspired to one day become._

_In five years time, Vorian went from the scrawny yet agile child to a tall and powerful young man, he was almost unrecognizable._

_Vorian places away the sparring equipment, the girls (now calling themselves the sand snakes) had buggered off and the prince was taking a sip of wine (something Vorian had never quite enjoyed very much). The prince made his way over to Vorian with a smirk dripping from his face._

_"You're getting good," the prince commented._

_"Thank you, my prince," Vorian nodded._

_"Almost better than me," Oberyn snidely added._

_"Not true," Vorian cocked an eyebrow, thinking otherwise but ever the modest, "but thank you, my prince."_

_"You're almost too old to still be my squire."_

_Vorian looked at the prince and returned the smirk, "I am a squire among many many other things to you, my prince."_

_"Also true."_

_Oberyn lightly chuckled, grabbing the nape of young Vorians neck and connecting their mouths into a passionate kiss. Oberyn tasted like he always did, wine and lust. Oberyn had not been the first kiss Vorian ever had nor his first lover, but the nights he spent with the prince of Dorne would be unforgotten memories he would look back on._

_Vorian was knighted not long after at a tourney. And soon with that, he left once again. Oberyn was right, he was too skilled and old to remain by the princes side forever. So he left the prince and Dorne, and never returned, turning his back on that and preparing to do what he last imagined before leaving Starfall, becoming a great knight._

 

* * *

 

_Vorian was in the Riverlands, at an inn somewhere when he met a man named Bronn. An odd man really. They were seated across one another having drinks and exchanging stories._

_"A sellsword, eh?" Vorian questioned._

_"Yeah, it pays just fine enough," Bronn shrugged taking a drink, while looking him up and down, "I take it your something more fancy? Like some kind of knight."_

_"Something like that," Vorian shrugged._

_"What's something exactly?" Bronn asked._

_Vorian wasn't going to tell him he was highborn, honestly that meant very little to him anymore. He never mentioned his last name and he didn't get much dress like highborn anymore either. So he simply shot back, "nine of ye' damn business."_

_"Fair point," Bronn quipped, taking a swig._

_"Where you coming from?" Vorian asked._

_"North of the Wall," Bronn admitted._

_"North of the Wall? Does business really take you that far?"_

_"Depends on the price," Brown replied, "you ever been up North, Vorian?"_

_"Stark territory, no," Vorian bitterly responded._

_"Starks? What's your problem with them?"_

_Vorian took a long and hard drink, and all that could come to mind was Ashara weak smile when he arrived in her delivery room, or the way her beautiful violet eyes dimmed on her last few days, or imagining her body falling from Starfalls highest towers. He took another sip and then answered._

_"Same as all highborn, take whatever they want and never think of who they're hurtin," he admitted._

_Bronn nodded raised his drink to Vorian, "I hear you."_

_The two drank themselves half to death that night and then proceeded to never see one another again._

 

* * *

 

_It was a tourney in King's Landing, he remembered, although he didn't remember why he went. Perhaps for the whores of King's Landing, to spite dead Targaryens or sneer at the loving Lannisters and Baratheons, or perhaps a chance at glory in the tourney the same way Arthur would win many tourneys._

_Although the moment he arrived in the city he regretted it dearly. The city smelt like shit and piss, and wasn't very pretty to look at if it weren't from the great sept or red keep. He was beginning to see Oberyns hatred for the city and the people who inhabited it. Vorian, a knight with not much valor to his name, came to the castle to enlist for the jousting. The moment he spoke his name, they knew he was a Dayne and he was informed he wasn't the only Dayne in attendance._

_His younger sister Allyria was nothing but a small child when he left her without explanation, and when he saw her again she had become a beautiful maiden, engaged to be wed to a lord named Beric Dondarrion. He chose not to seek her out, it had been so many years, Vorian wouldn't even know what to say._

_He had entered in handfuls of tourneys before, always in the south, mainly in Dorne and occasionally the Reach. But in King's Landing he could see there was a clear difference, that being Jaime Lannister, better known as the Kingslayer._

_Vorian didn't hate Jaime Lannister because he was an oathbreaker, or that he killed a mad man of a king. He didn't even hate him for the smug look on his Lannister face. Instead Vorian despised Jaime's relationship with his sister, the Queen._

_It was a hate rooted of sheer jealousy that this Lannister was a knight of one of the highest honor, and honor his brother earned and shared until his dying day, and he could happily watch his sister live a life of luxury while Vorian spent most of his days drowning in wine and whores to forget the pain he felt when he heard Ashara had killed herself. It was unfair._

_When he looked at the knight riding past his sister, who he was riding in honor of, Vorian overlooked the royal family. The king sat so far from them, it was as if he weren't apart of them. And from the three children they shared, one really stood out._

_The eldest princess, he couldn't remember her name for the life of him. She had black hair and green eyes, while her brother and sister had been graced with Lannister gold hair. She sat upright with her nose in the air like her mother, which made Vorian curse under his breath and turn away._

_When the jousting began, Vorian was ready._

_He could imagine the betting._

_Vorian may not have been known well in King's Landing, but hey knew of the power of House Dayne from his legendary brother. They'd be fools to assume otherwise from Vorian._

_Vorian started off easy and slow, doing well but slowly improving and better than the last._

_At the end of the day, there were only eight knight remaining and would continue the next day._

_He wondered off sometime after, taking a dig of a drink when he was bumped into by a little annoyance from behind, sending his drink to spill all over the ground, and whoever bumped into him fell on the ground behind him, not that he cared. Instead he was cursing them underneath his breath as he learnt down to pick up his drink to find it was emptied, wasted on the ground as the child behind him moaned in pain._

_"I am so sorry, Ser," the child, a well-spoken girl, apologized._

_With a scowl, he turned, and found it was the king's girl. Vorian knew as the only dornishman in the capital, he would have to accept her apologies before it progressed any further._

_"It's alright, princess," he mumbled, turning away from her._

_"Princess Lyla," a voice called out._

_The girl hurried off her feet and ran away from the voice as quick as the wind, Vorian watched in puzzlement as the princess of the seven kingdoms ran off with fear in those cat eyes of her mother's house. Vorian grabbed her arm, it was out instinct, but instantly regretted the choice when he realized he had just forcefully grabbed the young princess. He had done it time and time again to stop Oberyns daughters, but bastard daughters of a second son Prince were different from a princess. But she didn't scream or cry, she just looked at him._

_He didn't like the way her eyes, too large for her little face, stared up at him. Blank and empty. It was though she was staring right through him. However he kept her still until the woman that had called her name arrived._

_It was a peasant woman. She had plain brown hair and eyes. Nothing made her stand out particularly, but Vorian could not take his eyes off the woman as she dropped to take the princess's hand from him._

_"Thank you, Ser, I should return her to her seat immediately. I'm sorry for any inconvenience she may have caused you."_

_"There was no trouble." A lie._

_"I have wine on my dress, Fae," the girl blurted out._

_Fae, according to the princess, leaned down and saw the red stains on her blue dress and frowned. "Well if you didn't run into..." she trailed off looking to him for a name._

_"Vorian Dayne," he responded._

_"...Ser Dayne, your beautiful dress wouldn't be ruined." This caused the princess to frown as though Fae had not just told her the truth. But Fae still comforted the child. "Come on now, we have some time, I'll get you changed before your mother can see you like this." The girl nodded._

_He had never known any member of the royal family could be educated like that from a peasant serving them in the castle as such before. The girl listened so well, not even hesitant to listen to her before following her handmaid to the castle, before they left the young princess, Lyla, turned her head of soft black hairs to face Vorian with a grin on her face._

_"Goodbye, Ser Vorian."_

_He cleared his throat and then turned away from her gaze, "goodbye princess, hurry on to your mother."_

_The handmaiden bowed her head. "My lord," and hurried off before he could say anything else to her. He was intrigued._

 

* * *

 

_Vorian didn't know he managed to find his way to working in the castle, but he did nonetheless. He even forgot why he would do such a thing occasionally, before remembering the handmaiden of the young princess, Fae, who for whatever reason he could never stop thinking about. The work was not that bad, but having the princess follow behind him like a lost kitten. But Vorian acted as though he didn't see her, or hear her giggles believing she had gotten away with it. The best of it was when Fae would come looking for Lyla and he would just see her or hear her soft voice for a moment._

 

* * *

 

_The princess came to the stables for her riding lessons, her hair properly braided up, wearing her old riding skirts. It was not time to have her lessons and there was no one waiting to teach the young princess when she walked in, only horses not in their pens, spooked with a stick, which lead to them about to trample the young girl before Vorian found her at Fae's request._

_She was brought to her father, shaking and crying in his arms. Vorian could almost smile at the man watching how carefully he held the young girl as she shook and squeaked. He asked her what happened, but the girl could barely communicate what happened between her sobs. The queen wanted to reached out to her daughter, but Robert kept her in his arms. He barked at Vorian to tell him what happened, as though the Dornish knight was somehow to blame rather than thank for coming to her rescue. But he stood forward and told them all he knew._

_"I found the horses spooked and they charged at the princess, I came in time before any damage could happen. I did not see what happened prior to the incident, your grace."_

_The princess was sent to her room with her mother afterwards. No one talked about what was going to happen. She even stopped her lessons, the Queen supposedly told Robert she didn't want her daughter near the horrid beasts that nearly killed the girl. Whether or not it was the queen's orders, Lyla was scared of the horses now. But despite the fear, he could see the longing to want to continue her lessons._

_She was standing near the stables now, hiding as though she was shamed for wanting to return to her horse._

_He would have ignored her._

_He should have ignored her._

_But perhaps out of boredom to have to preform his duties, he approached the princess this time rather than her to him._

_"Princess, what are you doing here by yourself?"_

_"I..." she drifted off, not knowing how to respond._

_"The queen would not like you being here alone."_

_"I..."_

_"Shouldn't there be a knight with you? A guard?"_

_"I don't have one," she muttered, "the other men scare me,  except my uncle Jaime, and he is very busy."_

_"I don't scare you?"_

_"No."_

_"Why?"_

_The princess looked away and didn't respond as she just spun in her beautiful pink skirts with a frown on her face._

_"Why are you here, princess?" He asked again, more polite._

_"I want to ride," she mumbled to herself under her breath._

_"Then you should tell your father you wish to resume your horse riding lessons," he informed her._

_"If he taught me, they wouldn't have attacked me."_

_"Who is he?"_

_"My father," she said loudly._

_"The king is very busy," he informed her, lying. He was not busy. Unless spending all his time fucking whores, drinking wine, or out hunting in the kingswood counted as busy._

_"Everyone is busy," she muttered sadly, looking like a little puppy that has just been kicked._

_He sighed loudly. "What if I taught you, show your father and mother how brave you are? Then you can go on a ride with him one day to Storm's End or the crownlands." She smiles from ear to ear with her toothy grin. She was so pretty, like one of Ashara's dolls, her eyes too big and too colorful, her hair too bouncy like a properly groomed mare, and rosy cheeks. He couldn't stand looking at her like that._

_He lead her to the stables and prepared and horse while she waited by the door breathing heavily. He didn't comfort of coddle the princess the way the others in the castle did. Protecting her from the harshness from life that the moment something unexpected and dangerous happens she acts paralyzed with fear. So he just continued to saddle the horse before walking over to her._

_Something about watching her with shiver with fear, with her hands to herself and big eyes glossy. He didn't know what he felt. Gas, light drunkness from morning drinking, but he felt bad for the girl and bent down to met her eyes and spoke softly to try and calm her. "Are you sure you want to continue to learn? You don't have to, I won't make you."_

_She looked down. "I wanna."_

_"You won't get scarred?"_

_She nodded. He sighed._

_"Alright, then let's go."_

_She held out her hand as if she wanted him to hold it. As it was the request of his princess, he complied and held it._

_He lead her to the horse and she shook and whimpered, but he picked her up and placed her onto the horse before getting on himself from behind her and placing the reigns in her hands while she whimpered still and he cursed under his breath._

_"Those are foul words," Lyla spoke up, looking up at him with her overwhelming emerald eyes._

_"Are you going to tell on me, so they can cut he tongue from my throat for speaking so crudely in front of a princess?"_

_She looked upset and pouted. "No."_

_"Alright," he dismissed, "then let's go. Do you remember to direct a horse out of the stables?" She nodded fiercely, although she was still shaking. "Then let's go." She smiled widely and then began to lead them out of the stables together._

_When they returned, she was no longer scared._

_She was feeding her mare a sugar cube from her hand._

_"She's a good horse," he informed her._

_She nodded, "she is." She froze and then looked at him. "Ser Vorian, you know the horses didn't attack me?"_

_"No, they didn't."_

_"It was Joffrey, he spooked them so they would attack me because father gave me a horse for my Name Day, and he got nothing, he always does this," she uttered._

_"Does what?"_

_"Scare me," she pouted and looked at her with sad eyes, "Why is he so vile, Ser Vorian?"_

_Because he is more Lannister than you, he thought but did not dare say for fear she would repeat it. Instead he shrugged his shoulders. "Because you let him scare you, because they let him have whatever he wants because he is the crown prince, but you can keep him away if you want, you're a princess."_

_"But Joffrey will get to rule the seven kingdoms one day, and I will have to marry some lord and be a lady."_

_"If the seven kingdoms were like Dorne, the eldest inherits, regardless of gender," he informed her, which made her grin._

_"I wish this was Dorne."_

_"So do I, princess."_

_"Why did you leave then?"_

_Suddenly his mind rushed back to the young boy in Starfall training in the yard, eager to become of the greatest knights in the world just like his legendary brother, when he heard the screams of his beloved sister and he ran to be by her side until she was taken from this cruel world as well. Then he thought of how quick he left. Not saying goodbye to his younger sister, Allyria, or speaking with his eldest brother, he just left as fast as he could, and swore to never return._

_Then he was a man standing in a stable with this princess standing in front of him with a big smile on her soft face._

_How did he get here?_

 

* * *

 

He was sitting across the princess while she looked down at her hands, hands on her stomach that if her looked at close enough he could see the bump for. In a few months time she would have a child, a new heir to Winterfell. She had done her duty as a proper lady, but Lyla was not happy. She looked miserable, and he knew why, she was telling him again and again repeating what was making her so upset. He was the only one in Winterfell she could talk to. She didn't trust Maester Luwin after he kept letters from her, she was not speaking to Robb, the younger Stark brothers were boys, Theon made her uncomfortable, and he was he only southern who had been with her for years. She trusted him.

"He lied to me, for months he lied to me," she confessed.

"Not lie, princess, merely withholding the truth."

"What is the difference?" She questioned loudly. "He spent believing that my family and I were conspiring against him and his family. He didn't trust me, his wife. After I have done nothing but five up the way I was to be a proper wife to him. I am carrying his child, but he still couldn't trust me. And now I wonder how I could even trust him."

She looked as though she was going to cry with her glossy eyes. She was scared. He wasn't sure what she was scared of, maybe her fear of having a loveless marriage like her parents or the fear of having this child while being surrounded by enemies at the brink of war. Whatever it was, she was shaking like that day in the stables with her eyes big and glossy, and his face softened as he looked at her with compassion this time.

She whimpered, her lip trembling. "Before our wedding, he gave me his word that he would try and be a good husband to me. And while I never expected him to be the perfect husband, I wanted to trust him, I wanted to believe him. And now I don't know. I don't even know how to talk to him, or look at him anymore." She sank down onto her bed, covering her face with her hands in shame, but not crying.

He stood in front of her, "my sister, Lady Ashara, was with child before her death. She was scared as well. But she did not have a husband or any castle for her child to inherit. But she was brave, and sometimes that's all we have."

"I..."

"You remind me of my sister, princess. Child bearing has made you soft, but I know that the princess I met long ago was not afraid, she learnt better than to be afraid of lions or wolves or even dragons across the narrow sea."

She bowed her head, hiding a smile.

"Talk to him," he informed her. "I am not saying forgive, just tell him and say what you want to say. You don't even have to listen to him. You are the princess and no one in the seven kingdoms had the right to make you feel the way, or they will have to speak with my blades."

She looked up at him with her big smile. "Thank you, Ser Vorian, you always manage to make me feel better."

 


	24. The King's Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the death of the King, Lyla remembers a truth about her mother and uncle.

Lord Eddard Stark walked down the halls of King's Landing with one trusted man at his side, using a cane for his injured leg. In this time, he didn't know who to trust after learning the secrets of the queen. He had prepared to return his family to Winterfell, but not before he could inform Robert of his betrayal and lack of heirs. He knew he had asked for more than he could bargain when he accepted this offer, and he knew the dangers falling to the Hand after Jon Arryn's death, but never had he expected it to be like this. If he had, he wouldn't have married his heir to the princess so soon.

When he was walking down the halls he was greeted with a the sounds of a a man running down the halls, Renly Baratheon, brother to Robert and lord of Storm's End. He was out of breath with blood and sweat on him. It was odd as his brother had last invited Renly to accompany him on his hunt. It immediately caused Ned to realize what had happen before seeing the true horror on Renly's face.

"Ned!" Renly called out, he stopped right in front of them, still trying to find his breath while trying to form sentences out of his panic. "It's Robert. We were hunting...a boar..."

He didn't need to say more before Ned followed him immediately to Robert's chambers.

There surrounding the king was Barristan Selmy and Maester Pycelle, to be expected of course. But what surprised him was to see Queen Cersei still standing there looking over the king as if she cared, as if his death saddened her instead  of bringing her joy he was sure she experienced from seeing him in a weak state, and her bastard son sitting at the side of his supposed father's death bed. Ned remained quiet and allows them to finish, this was a death bed after all.

"I should have spent more time with you, shown you how to be a man." He looked at Joffrey. Robert really was a fool to believe that child was his, and child who shared none of his features. Perhaps drinking had made him blind, or he just stop caring enough to notice. He took a long pause. "I was never meant to be a father. Go on. You don't want to see this."

And just with that, a teary eyed false prince exited the room, perhaps even though he was not truly Robert's son, that boy did care about his false father. But Ned had no sympathy, concerning he gave Cersei time to escape with her children, and she clearly decided to stay and further endanger them.

Robert turned to Ned now. Poor confused Ned. The man who had been like a brother to him, more of a brother than either of his true brothers. The only man he could trust in the only kingdom. In a twisted way he was glad Ned was here now.

"My fault. Too much wine, missed my thrust," he explained, as though that made it better that Ned had to look at his dying friend knowing there is nothing he can do to help. "It stinks. It stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it," he complained loudly to the rest of the people in the room before turning back to Ned. "I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain. You ask them if I didn't. Ask them! I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the Kingdoms ever saw. And I want everyone to taste the boar that got me." He laughed a twisted laugh before going silent and turning his head to the rest and barked, "Now leave us, the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned."

Cersei tried to argue otherwise, "Robert, my sweet..." probably fearful this would be the time Stark would reveal her truth.

Robert did not let her finish. "Out, all of you!"

On Robert's demand, everyone left except for Ned. As soon as the door shuts, Ned turned to Robert, who clutched a letter and looked up at him with dazed eyes. Ned could barely form a thought, let alone a goodbye. Not another goodbye.

"You damned fool," was all Ned could manage.

"Lyla would chide me of she was here now."

Ned didn't know the princess was the chiding type, especially to her father and the king. It honestly surprised him. What more was the regretful and sad tone in Robert's voice as he spoke of his eldest and only trueborn daughter.

"She would be sitting where you are, putting on a strong face and telling me how I should have known better. She is stubborn and strong, like all Baratheon women. Tries to seem like a sweet obedient doe, but she's a Baratheon all the same. Thought that would help her in the North."

It was so loving how Robert spoke. Reminded Ned the way he spoke and thought of Sansa or Arya. The way only a father can care for his daughter. He never thought Robert felt this way.

Robert held out a note. "She sent me this. I wish I had known sooner, or I would have been going up North again than to the Kingswoods just to see her again." Ned just looked at the paper and Robert looked annoyed as he shook the paper in front of him. "Go on, read it," he ordered.

Ned took the paper carefully and unfolded it.

_For the eyes of Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and The First Men, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,_

_Dearest father, while months have passed since I last saw you in Winterfell I know that a lot has changed in Westeros with rumors of a conflict between House Lannister and House Stark. While O have never talked politics for you, it had caused me to sleep difficultly at night believing that there may be people in the North who don't trust me because of my mother's house. But more so about the dangers of a possible war. I trust in you and the small council will be able to prevent a war before that can happen. I have always been able to trust you to keep me safe, and while being a woman grown, I would still like to continue believing that._

_The reason that I have chosen to write you this letter myself is that I wanted you to hear it from my hand first. I am with child. I know how important it was for you father that we form a marriage alliance with House Stark and I thought that it would be beneficial for you to know that the alliance will produce an heir and your first grandchild. While I am still within the early months of child bearing, Maester Luwin assures me that everything appears to be healthy. I am excited at the prospect of motherhood, and I hope you and Lord Eddard are prepared to have a shared grandchild to bicker about next._

_Adjusting to Winterfell has been harder than I imagined, but nothing that I can not handle on my own. I miss you though, dearly._

_With all my love and affections,_   
_Princess Lyla of the House Baratheon_

Ned felt his heart sink into the bottom of his chest.

He was to be expecting a grandchild.

He looked at Robert who was booming with glee. There was something g twisted about how in the wake of Robert's death they were to receive this news that Robb and Lyla were expecting. He would almost have smiled if not for the tragic passing for his friend beside him.

"She's a good girl," Robert spoke up. "Lyla. She reminds me of my mother. Some say she's like her mother or me, but that's bullshit. She's my mother come again. Dutiful and smart, but not afraid to speak her mind. But always so kind and loving. I wanted to do one thing right as find her a good husband, someone worthy. The Tyrells are rich and the Martells would be a better alliance. But I trust no house more than that of House Stark. I hope she was is enough."

"More than enough," Ned spoke up. "The child will want for nothing. It will be proud of it's mother's House as well. I promise you that."

Robert smiled wistfully before returning to serious. He seemed to be getting weaker by the moment. "Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say." He ordered Ned while he complied and grabbed the paper from the desk and placed the note down. ""In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of..." you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles. "I hereby command Eddard of House Stark" titles, titles. "To serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death. To rule in my stead, until my son Joffrey comes of age". Give it over." Robert grumbled. 

Ned gave the paper to Robert, but rather than writing Joffrey, he wrote the rightful heir. He knew at the moment that Robert was dying, just learning he was to be expecting a grandchild, he could not tell him the truth about his other children's heritage. It seemed wrong to do so in his last moments. So he handed over the paper and quill to Robert to sign.

Robert quickly signed and handed it back to Ned. "Give it to the council after I'm dead. At least they'll say I did this right, this one thing. You'll rule now. You'll hate it worse than I did, but you'll do it well." Just as Ned prepared to leave, Robert quickly added, "the girl, Daenerys. You were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother. Worthless. No one to tell me "no" but you. Only you. Let her live. Stop it, if it's not too late."

He wondered if it was death bringing upon this new mercy from Robert, or maybe hearing his own daughter who was near the age of Daenerys Targaryen, was also with child just as she was. Whatever the reason, he was glad Robert had.

Ned nodded, "I will."

"And my son— Help him, Ned. Make him better than me."

"I'll," Ned was cut off with thought that this was his last chance to tell Robert the truth, but just couldn't bring himself to actually tell it to his face, and quickly said, "I'll do everything I can to honor your memory."

"My memory. King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig. Give me something for the pain and let me die."

 

* * *

 

Lyla was a princess, something she had found herself needing to constantly reassure herself of constantly. When ever she was unsure of herself, there was always someone to remind her that she was a princess, but it was something she had a hard time reminding herself of. When she was a child and she would cry, her mother would end it immediately and remind her she was a princess and that a princess never cries. It was almost odd how Lyla found comfort in her mother's cutting words, she wondered if her mother would've comforted her now that she was with child herself, awaiting to be a mother herself.

Vorian was the closest she had to someone to talk to now that she no longer had her ladies, although she never spoke to them of intimate details as she was unsure where their loyalties lied. She had a friend in the Knight of The Flowers who enjoyed a courtly life, but often that was all they talked of. She wrote often to her only cousin, Shireen, but Lord Stannis refused to bring either Shireen nor his wife to court. Myrcella, and to a much lesser extent Tommen, could also be trusted to share insecurities with, but she wanted to pose as a strong older sister for them both, someone Myrcella could aspire to be and a protective older sister. She used to share everything with Fae, but that was a long time ago. Vorian was the only one she knew she could trust with all her secrets and council she could follow.

So once again she had gone to ask of council from Ser Vorian of what to do in her certain predicament, she had been hiding she was with child for some time on, almost coming upon a month. Her stomach had began to grow, although she could still hide it in her folds of her warm northern dresses. Vorian was bashful, probably uncomfortable talking about this with a girl he had known since she was just a child, but he still listened. Of course he told her what he should've, the noble choice:

_"Talk to him. I am no saying forgive, just tell him and say what you want to say. You don't even have to listen to him. You are the princess and no one in the Seven Kingdoms has the right to make you feel that way."_

She knew that was the answer the whole time, that she needed to speak to Robb about this, she couldn't keep this secret from him. She didn't  _want_ to keep this secret from him anymore. Lying to keep peace between people was something Lyla had been trained in since she was a child. To keep her mouth to keep everyone around her happy. It was what her septa always used to tell her. The wife's responsibility was to keep her husband happy, be a proper lady, and to bare him heirs.

Lyla had wanted to do so per her father's request. She wanted to when she met the Starks and saw that despite the North's harshness, they were a kind family. She wanted to when Robb kissed her for the first time with his warm lips, the first time she felt any warmth since crossing to the North. But she stopped the moment she learnt why he kept his distance. Although she had long forgotten why she was so mad. Was she still angry? He lied to her, of course she was hurt, but so much so she could never forgive him anymore? Of course not. She would. One day.

But she would forgive him enough to tell him about this child, it was just as much his child and it was hers. And no matter what she thought of him as a husband, she knew he would be a good father. She had seen the way his father was, closer to his children than hers ever was, and Robb was so kind yet firm with his younger brothers, he would be a great father. Even so, this child would be another heir to Winterfell if it was born a boy. Telling him was never out of the question, she always planned to, but now she had no choice but to do so now.

Lyla was in her chambers, she had finished eating alone by choice. Robb didn't ask why, he knew, and he had respected her enough to have given her distance when she had asked. She walked in circles as she prepared herself to go to Robb's chambers. She prepared herself with her composure, the last time she had lost herself in her righteous anger and after that was a crying mess, she wanted to be calm and collected like her mother taught her to be. She then tried to think of what she was going to say to her husband, what she could possibly say to him and how.

 _I am with child_ , was the first thing she thought of what to say. Simple and to the point. But she couldn't walk to his chamber and make such a bold announcement. She had to think of something to open with.  _Robb do you remember before all of this, I wasn't feeling too well. I went to Maester Luwin and learnt that I am with child._ Simple. Just as the first one, but she wondered it it was too informal for this occasion with everything that had been happening between them, and more importantly between the Starks and Lannisters.  _Robb, there has been some distance between the two of us for some time. I didn't come here looking for an apology, I do not want one. I just came here to tell you the truth as well, because you deserve it. I have been with child for some time to now. There are still months to pass until its birth. I believe you should write to your father, mother, and sisters, and I shall inform the rest of my royal family._

After what felt like hours, that was the one she had decided she would go with. Not too kind but very respectable.

Lyla walked to the door of her chambers and revealed Ser Vorian standing there guarding as was his duty.

"I will be back in a moment, stay here and if anyone comes looking for me, I am asleep soundly," she informed him.

"Of course, my princess," he nodded, dutifully.

Lyla walked admittedly quickly to Robb's chamber. There was anxiety building in her as she hurried quickly. She tried to contain the composure she practiced in her room. Head held high, body moving light and gracefully, and a calm and stoic look on her face. She copied the way her mother had always presented herself when in court, the way she was taught a lady was supposed to. She supposed if her mother could always stand up to her father, then why would she be afraid to stand up to her own husband?

When she reached his door, every room in Winterfell wasn't guarded as they were in King's Landing, she supposed they were less afraid of being murdered in their sleep or attacked in the night. Good, it made it easier to walk about that way. She knocked on the door softly but gained more momentum so that he would be able to hear her. And so of course he did and she heard a voice call out that he was coming. Robb walked to the door and opened it, surprised to look down and meet the eyes of his wife, whom he had not held a conversation with in days and who often refused to look directly at him. But when she looked up at him this time, she lost all her composure completely.

"Lyla," he muttered.

The raven-haired princess was silent, not sure what to say anymore, as she forgot what she had practiced.

"Uh," she mindlessly uttered, "may I come in for a moment. I think we need to talk. No, I need to talk to you," she clarified.

He nodded correspondingly, "of course, come in."

Robb opened the door widely and allowed for the princess to enter. She looked around and remembered clearly the last time she was here. The last time she slept here. She turned around as Robb slowly closed the door and turned to face her, which caused her to play with her necklace as she became unsure if she should have come to talk with him this night, perhaps she should have waited longer to tell him the truth. No, it was too late to go back.

"Robb," she began, although took almost too long to follow with anything else, unsure of what else she could've said.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at him for being another person in her life who always lied, or if she wanted to cry because she had almost convinced herself she was in love with a man who had lied to her. In truth it could've been either. At first she had tried blaming herself saying it was her fault for convincing that she could've fallen in love with him, she so desperately wanted to have a better marriage than her parents, and they were still better, Robb would never lay a hand on her. But she knew it wasn't all her fault for her expectations. He promised to meet them all, and while she never expected him to be perfect, she only ever asked that he would trust her and never lie.

"I have spent a long time thinking of what to say, if I should say anything at all. As a lady,  _as a princess_ , it is my duty to listen to my husband, and I always promised to be a dutiful wife to you. All I asked of you in return was that you be honest with me, because for my entire life I don't think my father has ever told my mother the truth, or even spoke to her of anything. I think that is one of the reasons their marriage is so sour, and I never wanted to have a marriage like theirs. If you dislike me, I would want you to tell me. If you want to share your bed with whores, so long as I am not the only one in Winterfell not to know. And anything else, so long as you talk with me, or at least not lie to me. It's all I want to ask of you Robb and then I will be content in this marriage."

Lyla didn't know what she was saying while she said it. All the practice she had spent preparing exactly what she wanted to say to Robb and exactly how she wanted to say it, but that didn't matter the moment she started talking, she just kept talking. She could hear it all afterwards and the way it sounded made her want to blush like a whore in a sept. But she didn't stop talking because it was all true, everything she spoke about was the complete truth. Everything she wanted to say come out, but not at all exactly what she needed to say, as there was so much more.

"That's why I wanted to start by telling you that, quite some time ago I learnt that I am with child. And I could have told you earlier, a part of me wanted to tell you to make it better, so we could forget our argument, but another part of me didn't want to tell you. I don't know why, it was idiotic to try and keep it a secret, but I was hurt. I have already notified my father in King's Landing that I am with child, but you can feel free to write to your family if you please, I would like to write to my mother and my siblings as well. So, even if you can never trust me because I am a Lannister, because your house and my mother's house are at a conflict, that is fine. I can even understood why. But I am carrying your child, and so we will have to learn to trust each other in some sense. I don't want to keep secrets."

And with that last breath, she had said everything she had wanted to say to Robb since she learnt she was with child. Lyla no longer had anything else to say, and even as she spoke, she stopped looking him in the eyes because she couldn't find the strength to do so. But she felt as though a weight had been taken off her the moment she finished her sentence. She sighed in relief as she was greeted by silence following her confession. So she took a moment to look up to be greeted by a very confused Robb Stark, so dumbfounded he could have been mistaken for Jon Snow. He started to open his mouth to speak this time, but instead nothing was coming out, just like her before.

"Y-your with child?" He stuttered.

She nodded nervously, forgetting this was the first she told him.

He covered his mouth with his hand, and started to almost start smiling and laughing. "With child," he repeated, gleefully.

Lyla was  _surprised_ by his response to her news, but not an unwelcome surprise. She was relieved that he was cheerful.

"Are you alright?" He asked, she was confused what he was asking before she concluded he meant her health.

"Yes, of course," she nodded.

"How long?" He asked.

"A few months," she responded.

Robb took the next few moments being silent, but with a smile on his face he was trying to stifle. Lyla knew why he would be glad, he had an heir, but she didn't expect him to be this happy, she almost wanted to laugh at how giddy he was.

Robb stopped smiling as he seemed to remember everything else she had been talking about prior. He took a deep breath and looked down at Lyla again, trying to be honest and serious.

"I don't want to give you pretty words like the men in King's Landing, because I broke a promise to you and that was dishonorable and I would never want to dishonor you, Lyla. I thought withholding the truth was different from lying, but I hurt you," he spoke, his northern accent very clear as day, back to all seriousness as he ever was before. "You don't have to forgive me. I won't ask you to, you never have to," he assured her, she nodded her head. Never was too much, but she appreciated not having have to forgive him. "I don't deserve to, but you were right. We have to talk. Not talking about what happened was torture. I don't want to lie to you again in anyway. If you want Lyla, then I will do everything you have asked me for."

Lyla nodded, "thank you for listening to me, Robb."

"Thank you for always being honest with me, Lyla."

She nodded as she felt anxious yet again as she didn't know what to say as she was about to walk away. Lyla just looked at him. She looked at those blue eyes and her lip almost started tugging up.

"I just realized fully that I am going to be a mother," she admitted, "it's all just a bit overwhelming."

"Are you worried about anything?" he asked.

"No, not anymore," she confessed, "I think that's why."

"You deserve to feel happy, Lyla," Robb assured her, "I am sure my father and sisters, especially Sansa, will be glad when I write them in the morning." He got a bit more serious in his tone as he got a bit closer to her, "I haven't been that happy since Bran fell."

"Robb," Lyla spoke again, "about Bran's fall. I have been thinking about it. Since that man came to kill Bran that night in his sleep, who could have wanted to hurt an innocent child. When you suggested it could be a Lannister, I didn't want to believe you out of loyalty to my family but I want to know if it could have been." Lyla looked down at her hands, "if you think he was pushed out of that tower and then paid an assassin to kill him in his sleep, I want to know if it could have been a member of my house and why they would have done it. I thought of all the motives. I thought of what could have been my uncles doing, but Tyrion would never hurt Bran, you heard him when he came to Winterfell and gave that saddle Bran loves so much."

"My mother only told me that she planned to warm my father in King's Landing, for whatever reason she had to assume it was Lord Tyrion and took him under her custody," Robb began before looking at her emerald eyes. "I agree with you Lyla, I can not find good reason why Lord Tyrion would have thrown Bran only to return here to give him a gift does not make any sense."

"I pray to the Father that Bran will have justice, as odd as that may sound to a northern," Lyla spoke, with a faint laugh at the end, remembering he prayed to different gods than hers.

"I pray the old gods for the same," Robb replied.

"And  _if,_ " she stretched the  _if_ in the sentence, "the person who hurt Bran was a Lannister. They should be judged all the same."

"It would have been so much easier if he could remember anything," Lyla sighed. 'Anything at all would have helped."

Robb looked down and then back at her for a moment of contemplation before speaking. "After Bran was attacked in the night and before she left, my mother found a long strand of golden hair in the tower where Bran fell from. It's why we have been thinking it could have been a Lannister who attacked Bran."

"Long golden hair strand?" the princess mimed.

Lyla then thought of something, or was it remembering something. No matter what it was, it happened so fast she forgot it in an instant. But she just looked up at Robb.

"I'm feeling tired, I should return to my room," she began as she looked into his eyes, "I am glad that we could have talked because I really would want things to be as they were before all of this."

"I'd like that as well," he agreed.

"Goodnight," Lyla bowed.

"Goodnight, Lyla," Robb responded as she left his room.

 

* * *

 

_Lyla was six years old, it was the middle of the day and she had been with her septa all morning but she quickly tired of how her septa tried to teach a young girl who only wanted to play games._

_The girl was looking for her mother, or her uncles, or her handmaiden Fae, or even her younger brother Joffrey who was barely four. She wasn't supposed to wander the castle alone, no princess should be unescorted, but no one seemed to be watching her so she took advantage of that to explore. She never went farther than the rooms and the throne room which was usually empty for except when they were holding court, and Lord Arryn would greet her with a pat of the head and sometimes a sweet. Uncle Stannis was a mean old man, with a mean look on his face she didn't like. Maester Pycelle smelt the worse. But she liked Ser Barristan._

_The one she wanted the most was her mother. Lyla loved to be smothered in her mother's affections. To sit in her queenly mother's lap as Cersei would brush her hair as Lyla felt her mother's silky golden hair, as her mother would speak with her strong voice and tell her stories or sing her songs, Lyla was still too young to full pay attention to them but she liked the way she told them. Her mother would leave kisses on her face and tell Lyla how important she was to her. It always made Lyla feel better when she was sad. Cersei didn't seem loving with the sole exception to her children whom she protected and loved with the ferocity of a lioness._

_She would settle for her Uncle Jaime though, he lacked the warmth of her mother was otherwise almost the same as her mother in her eyes with the same golden hair, the same green eyes, the same beautiful features, but with a more athletic build so he could lift her up and throw her around in the air. Her uncle was much kinder than Stannis, and much more caring. Her Uncle was often trusted to guard her when she needed it because her mother trusted him to._

_Lyla ran carefully, knowing how to run without hurting herself._

_She tried to memorize her way to her mother's chambers and cracked the unguarded door open to run to her mother but stopped at the sounds of voices inside and didn't want to interrupt._

_"Are you sure?" A male voice asked, she peaked her eye in and saw that it was her Uncle Jaime with his beautiful golden mane and Kingsguard armor that made him shine pure white and gold._

_"Of course, I am sure!" A female voice snapped. It was her mother dressed in pink wrapped dresses with her hair tied and twisted around in one of her extravagant hairstyles. Lyla smiled brightly._

_"What's the harm then, he is your husband?" Jaime continued._

_"I gave him a beautiful princess and yet he changed nothing. Even when he_ **_thinks_ ** _that I have given him a crown prince, nothing changes. I refuse to give him any satisfaction to think he has made me with child again, not after the first time, never again."_

_Lyla was confused what her mother was talking about. Child? Did she mean her or Joffrey? She was a princess and Joffrey a prince, but she couldn't finish placing the pieces together. But she became invested in their conversation and what they were talking about together._

_"I'll take you to that woman to cleanse you again, but you need to be more careful, Cersei, if your husband wasn't such a drunk, maybe he would be able to notice the difference between your brood," he teased._

_She hit his arm, "leave them out of this."_

_"Why? It's almost humorous how you can all sit together without him seeing what is so clearly obvious," he continued to tease._

_She tried to hit him again, but he grabbed her hand and brought her closer to him, much closer than she had ever seen the two of them get before._

_"What's the harm in another?" he teased, leaning down to her neck and burying his face into it. Lyla quirked a brow, what was he doing to her mother's neck? She wanted to ask, but she remembered that she was eavesdropping on their conversations when she knew she wasn't supposed to but didn't want to be in trouble so she bit her tongue in silence._

_"Jaime," her mother moaned, a sound Lyla had never heard another person make. She wondered why her mother was making that weird look on her face with an overly opened mouth as she appeared to be moaning loudly. Lyla closed her mouth and covered it, never wanting to embarrass her mother. But she couldn't stop watching in confusion. Her mother wrapped her arms around her uncle and pulled him closer to her body and buried his head further to her neck. Once he left her neck, their lips met into a passionate kiss._

_Lyla covered her mouth before she had the chance to gasp in shock. Lyla didn't know many things, but she knew what a kiss on the mouth meant. It was something you only did with a lover, not with a brother or sister. She was so confused by what she had just seen. But once again she couldn't just bust in and start asking questions, so instead she tried to sneak away as quickly and quietly as she could, no longer wanting to look at them anymore._

_Lyla knew she shouldn't have seen that, so she didn't speak about it._

_Until she couldn't remember what she had seen._


	25. Letter From King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla discovers the truth of Bran's incident.

Lyla felt sick to her stomach. Not simply because she was with child, but because of what she knew. What she remembered.

 _Why do I have such a damned memory of my own mother and her-_ and with that thought she felt another bout of sickness rile up in her.

The princess knew this was not an odd occurrence in history, for hundreds of years Targaryens married brother to sister, with the blessing of septons no less, and everyone in the Seven Kingdoms thought nothing more of it than that. Yet they were not Targaryens, and if they were would not make it any less revolting to the princess's mind. It was taboo for reasons, it was wrong-  _vile_ for a brother and sister to lie together as they did.

Lyla didn't understand what she had seen when she was a child, she rationalized it over and over until it was too difficult that she forced herself to hide this memory from herself. Yet Lyla knew now as an adult what they were doing. How he held her close like a lover.When he leaned his head to her neck, kissing it passionately. And kissing her the way Lyla had been on her wedding night. She knew now that they had done.

She remembered it as though everything had suddenly made sense in her life the moment Robb mentioned the golden hair.

In that moment he mentioned his mother finding a long golden hair strand in the tower it made her rethink her whole life beginning with that moment. Every moment she remembered seeing her mother and brother far too close, she excused it as a bond between twins. Every moment the two would wonder off together and she watched in the corner of her eye, choosing to believe that it was not her place to question her queenly mother. The way they looked to one another, almost longingly, and Lyla came to the conclusion she would not know what longing looked like between lovers. Every moment she almost knew the truth but chose to live in the safety of the lie they had been keeping.

And just as she had told Robb, there was no more living in a lie. Her mother and uncle were lovers. Her mother was committing adultery by having another man in her bed that was not her husband, no less her own brother. Both crimes that would have them both killed if the truth was ever found out. While Lyla believed heavily in truth, she knew she could never wish death onto either of them, he was her uncle and she was her mother. She loved her mother honestly more than anyone. A mother who lied to her for years and done something so horrifyingly foul. She also told Robb that she would want whoever harmed Bran to face the Father for their crimes, but could her mother have? No. At least she still wanted to believe she had not.

Lyla sat down on the ground, not caring if she dirtied gown, instead she needed to feel grounded as her body grew weak. She had been throwing up, sickness common when a woman was carrying, Maester told her it meant she was healthy oddly enough. She rubbed her head and cringed her face in agony.

_Damn you mother, why? Why would you have done something so horrible with your own brother? I know you ended up forced into a loveless marriage as is many ladies in the Seven Kingdoms, but how could you have committed the most horrible of crimes. One of the three worst. And all that time you spent "teaching" me to be a proper wife and you were with your own twin. How could you insult the crown and our house?_

So many questions she wanted to ask her mother, but she could not write her and for quite some time there will not be a chance to see her mother face to face again.

Besides the overwhelming sense of weakness she felt from her sickness, which she felt a bit angered at her unborn child for because she quickly began dislike feeling weak and out of control. She felt revolted at the memory or just the thought of her mother and her uncle Jaime as lovers under the nose of everyone in the Red Keep. More so, she felt a sense of betrayal.

Her mother aways told her that those in her father's court were vultures stalking, waiting for a sign of weakness that they would exploit until they ripped her to pieces. That they were all liars. Lyla would then of course state that lying was wrong, something her septa taught her, lying was a sin in the eyes of the Seven. Her mother would tell her that not every lie was a sin, that sins were only what hurt someone, and that sometimes a well placed lie could keep together a whole kingdom. Lyla believed her because the words seemed so wise. Little lies such as keeping to herself or lying to make others around her happier, wanting to always be pleasant and well-behaved. She lied like a Lannister.

And all those years she believed just a small lie could never hurt anyone, she was told that from her mother. Yet she knew lies always had the power to hurt someone. All the lies she had told in the past could have hurt someone perhaps if they learnt the truth. When Robb lied to her and it hurt her. How her mother had been living a lie that would result in her being executed by the crown and the sept, that hurt Lyla knowing her mother was not the woman she had always thought her to be. Yet also the lie that she had lied to herself, the way her own mind was manipulated int0 wanting to only see her mother as a loving woman who would never do something so vile, how she let herself be so consumed with obliviousness to what was obvious.

Her mother. The woman she believed that she knew better than anyone else in the Seven Kingdoms. She heard thousands of stories and gossips about her mother being a horrible woman, and she knew they were wrong. She believed she saw Cersei Lannister as she truly was. She believed her mother was loving because she was always making sure to tell her and show her how much she loved her with kisses and affection. She was smart, always teaching Lyla how to be a cunning young woman. She was strong, Lyla watched as her father humiliated her time and time again, and yet her mother never let anyone think less of her because she was still a queen. She admired her and loved her.

That was all just another lie.

Lyla thought herself a fool for falling for it.

It made it seem as though she could not trust what she had always thought as true. Was her mother really as loving as she thought? The mother's love she thought was so powerful could have just been another lie. It seemed as though she could not trust anything she had ever been told. Her mother was just another liar.

Lyla felt alone. Weak and alone.

_What if your only imagining it? You don't know the whole truth?_

Of course Lyla knew the whole truth already, no matter how she tried to convince herself she didn't. She didn't need to see more to know what was happening, she knew enough to assume correctly, and there was other things that helped her confirm it.

_If so, what is truly the harm if they have kept their secret?_

She wondered trying to salvage any hope. She supposed they had kept their lie for some time now. Lyla knew this was not true though. She had been raised by the Seven and knew that when breaking a law, such as committing incest, there would be punishments. And if they were discovered she could only imagine her father's fury as he would order both their heads immediately if not taking them both himself out of pride.

Of course it would not be so easy to execute both Lannisters, he would have to face Lord Tywin, he grandfather, who would never allow his house to be slandered and murdered as traitors of the crown. Their could be another war in Westeros even sooner than they were currently on their way to as Lady Catelyn had taken her Uncle Tyrion and her Uncle Jaime attacked Lord Stark in the streets of King's Landing. A war would quickly spread, a war caused because her mother chose to bed her own brother.

 _And who are you to judge?_ She asked herself.

Lyla quickly snapped in disgust,  _her daughter. Someone with the sense to know how truly atrocious their actions are no matter the context._

_And why would they be so drawn to one another as lovers?_

That was the question she could not answer.

Why?

Why they would commit a sin so reprehensible that even as her daughter she could not forgive her mother for sure. Lyla believed she was a forgiving person, it took too much effort to give a person who hurt you the power to keep hurting you by not forgiving them. Was her mother just some heathen who could not control herself and enjoyed acts of taboo, doing it all for the joys of the forbidden acts. Perhaps her mother was doing it as revenge against her father for how he constantly embarrassed her by having a multitude of bastards and whores. Or perhaps her mother in some twisted way loved her Uncle Jaime as a lover.

No. She could not spend another moment thinking of that damned memory. She refused to give it any more of a thought. Lyla had so much more to think about. Perhaps this memory was important, even so, for now she could not, no she did not want to, connect the fact that her mother and uncle lied with one another with the rising conflict in Westeros. However in the North there was no fear of rising conflict, there had never been a war fought in the North before, it was too cold, large, and far out. The war instead was down south in the Riverlands, Westerlands, and even the Crownlands. Instead the worst she had to prepare herself for was the childbirth she had a fear of.

 _Yes childbirth, focus on that instead,_ she begged of herself as she started to reach out for the table beside her to rise to her feet again. She needed to think of something else and childbirth was the only other thought that was consistently in her mind since they had informed her of her wedding was upcoming months prior to their trip North, and no matter how much time had passed, she still had this sense of foreboding towards childbirth.

The princess was taught, among the many lessons she now started questioning, not to be afraid. She prided herself on being fearless, or just appearing so. However, in honesty there were so many things about childbirth that made her anxious.

Of course she believed that every lady had to have some worry of when she would have to go to their childbed. Lyla only thought she had more to fear than many other ladies would have to. She knew her grandmother, Lady Joanna, died on childbed after having a dwarf child. Lyla didn't believe she would have a dwarf child, but many women bled out on the childbed all the same. Her Uncle Stannis' wife, Lady Selyse, miscarried three boys and then had only one sickly daughter. She knew the wife of the former hand, Lysa Arryn, had a multitude of stillbirths and miscarriages that had driven the woman mad.

Her mother however, managed to carry and raise four children. Lady Catelyn had five children of her own without fault. Her grandmother, Cassana Baratheon, had three strong boys. Her mother used this to calm her, reminding her that there were many ladies that had many children every day in Westeros and that she would do the same. Lyla would always agree, there was no other choice than to believe that she would properly carry. There was no choice. If she miscarried, it would be her fault alone. It was a burden that seemed so damning to bare.

So, Lyla went to the sept built in Winterfell originally by Lord Stark for Lady Catelyn, to pray to the Seven. She thought she may have been thought to be an odd lady in the North for wanting to keep the faith of the seven, even in the North where she was unsure if her gods would even hear her. Even so, she still made an offering to the Mother Above, thanking her for the gift of new life, and asked for her mercy to protect her and her child. She asked for the seven to bless this innocent child.

Another thought that would come to her mind sometimes would also be what Joffrey teased when they were riding North, no matter how stupid it was.  _"We'll see, when your first pup claws its way of you with fur and fangs. At least they'll know it's his."_ She clenched her knuckles fighting the urge to unleash pure furious rage, even if Joffrey wasn't there, to hit him over the head.

What he said of course was untrue, she was not going to have some monstrous child that looked part human part wolf. Neither she nor Robb were monsters. However, she would not lie that her fear of the childbed manifested in the thoughts of a monster clawing its way out of her body, as though she could feel the tearing and clawing, the feeling of fangs biting into her stomach when she was sleeping. Night terrors of a monster growing in her child waiting to kill her. All just a cruel dream caused by an even more cruel boy, whom would laugh at how he still tortured her.

The thought was still there. At the best, she would survive and have a child. At the worst, either she or her child could die on the birthing bed. And the very worst was they could both die.

Of course there was more worry to come when she would have this child, such as then having to be a mother. She thought nothing of it before, but now there was a child already growing inside her. Was she afraid she would not be a good mother? She always argued her own mother was a good mother whom she could model herself from, but a good mother would not have lied and done something so vile. Lyla knew one lesson from her mother was that she wouldn't lie so horribly to her child.

Then the memory came back when she thought of her mother's vile actions, and she remembered hearing something. Something her mother had said that day to her uncle.

_"I gave him a beautiful princess and yet he changed nothing."_

Simple enough to understand, she was the princess, the only one alive at the time, months before Myrcella was born. Her mother referred to her as her beautiful princess on occasion.

The mention of her father changing, that she was less sure of. Perhaps she was talking about the drinking and whoring, that was always what she saw her mother take displeasure in him doing. He had no shame about it, but she was a prideful lioness who could not stand how her husband would make a fool of himself and therefore, a fool out of her.

_"Even when he_ **_thinks_ ** _that I have given him a crown prince, nothing changes."_

She remembered the strain on the word  _thinks_ when her mother was speaking that day to her uncle. The crown prince of course was Joffrey, as he would never let anyone forget that he was in fact the crown prince and born to be a king. Nothing changed, of course what she had stated before, Robert Baratheon was a creature of habit. The word that still hung over her was  _thinks_. She claimed that her father only  _thinks_  that he has a crown prince.

And thats when she comes to the realization, almost as though she had been hit in the head with it.

_"I refuse to give him any satisfaction to think he has made me with child again, not after the first time, never again."_

Joffrey wasn't the child of Robert Baratheon.

Joffrey was a bastard. A base-born child just like Jon Snow or Edric Storm, but he lived the lie of believing he was a king instead. Lyla would have felt satisfaction knowing that all those times Joffrey taunted her about how he was the future king, instead she was in shock. He was a bastard this whole time.

She reached out and held her own black hair. She had always been told she was the only child who looked at all like a Baratheon. She had long wavy black hair just as every Baratheon had black hair, her father, Uncle Stannis, Uncle Renly, her cousin Shireen, and even Edric Storm. But non of her siblings how followed her had dark hair, instead they were born with vibrant golden hairs just like their mother. She thought nothing of it as a child, believing their hair was more beautiful than her own. This whole time it was because she was the only actual child of the king, and her hair told that truth much to her relief.

Then she remembered what her uncle said next.

_"What's the harm in another?"_

Joffrey was the bastard of her uncle and mother. A truth much easier to understand after everything she had been thinking of for the whole morning since the previous day she came to understanding of her own memory. It made sense, a child so vile born from a vile coupling. However, that meant Myrcella and Tommen were also bastards all the same, but instead of being vile, they were both innocent and sweet summer children who did not deserve the persecutions that children born of incest would usually be subjected to in the eyes of the sept.

She felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. It was illogical to feel such sadness, nothing sad had happened yet. However there was still the thought that her siblings, Tommen and Myrcella, were children of incest and would be executed in a horrid manor if anyone learnt the truth. Lyla knows that deep down she would feel some sense of sadness if Joffrey died as well, as no matter how cruel he was, he was still her younger brother. No wonder her mother and uncle had kept the lie for so long, with three children they were too deep to not keep the lie, all three of them would die along their parents if anyone learnt the truth.

For the third time she realized something she had been wondering. The blonde hair in the tower that Bran had fallen from placed the blame on a Lannister. A Lannister of course could also pay for an assassin to kill the boy in his sleep. But why? The question of what motive someone could have to be so dedicated to harm such a sweet little boy. He must have learnt a secret, seen or heard something he wasn't supposed to.

He saw them.

Bran saw them together.

Or he heard them talking about it.

Either way he learnt the truth, just as she had years so long ago.

Bran had seen the queen with her lover of a brother.

And so they tried to kill him, even hiring an assassin.

Perhaps she was wrong, perhaps she was overthinking it, but this made more sense to her than what Lady Stark must have been thinking of when she had taken her Uncle Tyrion captive along the Kingsroad. She never thought her mother would be that cruel, she enjoyed ridicule and cruel words occasionally, but she never thought she could kill a child. But she also thought she would never be so vile that she would lie with her own twin brother. If she did not know much about her mother, then maybe her mother and uncle would be able to do something cruel.

Lyla rose up, she needed to tell Robb, have Maester Luwin send this to Lady Catelyn so she would release her innocent uncle, and then decide what to do next, perhaps inform Lord Stark and terminate the betrothal of Sansa and Joffrey, as a lady cannot marry a bastard. She didn't want her brothers and sister to be killed, so perhaps she could ask her brother to have them stripped of their titles and taken to Casterly Rock instead. Begging for her mother or uncle was too much, but she could still save Myrcella and Tommen.

As she managed to stand up, the door was knocked and her thoughts were interrupted with the sound of Ser Vorian's voice.

"Princess, Maester Luwin has a letter from King's Landing," he announced from the other side of the door.

"Let him in, Ser Vorian," she called back.

She walked to the door as he opened the door. Luwin was standing there holding a letter for her with a somber face.

"I hope you are feeling better, my princess," he stated.

"Thank you," she nodded, before her eyes went down to the letter, wondering what could be the content of it. It was one of the few letters from King's Landing she was receiving and she wanted desperately to rip it open. "A letter?" she asked.

"For you, princess," he offered it to her.

"Thank you," she repeated, walking to her desk and ripping the top open with her letter opener and retrieving the letter within.

"I'll leave you be, princess, if you have any issue do not fret coming to me," Maester Luwin dismissed himself, but Lyla was no longer paying attention as he left and the door closed.

She was too shocked and heartbroken as she read the letter.

 

* * *

 

Theon did not pride himself on being jealous of Robb Stark, but anyone who spent too much time staring at the sun would soon feel it's burn, and you couldn't blame the sun, only the fool who would dare to let themselves be burnt.

The heir to the Iron Islands did not like to think of the heir to Winterfell as superior to himself, as the Greyjoy already had quite a high opinion of himself. In many ways he liked to consider that he was better than Robb. Theon was three years older than him, and knew he wasn't always the way he is now, how childish he is, how he was still a bit of an honorable fool. Theon also took great pleasure in how he  _knew_  Robb had only been with one woman, his prudish princess, while Theon had taken pleasures in many of the Northern women and whores.

However past that there was no competition Theon could challenge Robb in. He was the heir to Winterfell, he would have, he had, respect and power while Theon had been away from the Iron Islands for years as a ward. Robb had a family surrounding him, this morning when Robb and Lyla joined him to break their fast he told him that she was with child, meanwhile Theon lost both his cruel brothers, his father abandoned him, and who knew of Yara. Even if she was a prudish little minx, Lyla was more beautiful than any woman ever born this far over the neck, perhaps more so than Sansa, age will only tell. Robb was lucky to have a princess all to himself, and Theon had his whores.

Robb didn't outwardly show his jealousy for the Stark heir, they were friends, raised like brothers, he cared for Robb like a brother and never went out of his way to antagonize him the way he did the younger Stark brothers or thick-skinned princesses. Even watching the two talk together in length after the imps kidnapping, it was almost sickening. The princess must have agreed because she dismissed herself without finishing her meal. Once she left, Theon took that time to mock Robb on how he was going to be a father, and his carrying wife, stating that her outburst was just the hysteria of a woman carrying a child or perhaps she just needed a good fucking.

Before Robb could respond, although his eyes looked as though he wanted to throw Robb out of the dining hall they were seated in together, Luwin entered with a letter for Robb from Sansa in King's Landing. Robb rose to his feet and read it to himself.

"Treason?" Robb spoke aloud, not believing what he had just seen with his own eyes. He knew his father, he would have never committed treason, he was a supporter of House Baratheon and the most honorable of men. "Sansa wrote this?"

"It is your sister's hand, but the Queen's words," Luwin assured, he knew the girl since she was born, Sansa would never had come up with words like that at her own tuition. Luwin was glad that the princess had left, he had given her a letter addressed for her to inform her personally that her father was dead. "You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King."

Robb could not believe what he had just read, remembering the prince and what a horror he was. He remembered how he tried to humiliate him in the court because he was too much of a coward to fight when refused metal swords. More so, he remembered how Lyla slapped the little shit, it was so unladylike compared to how she had acted, too much like how Sansa did, it was the first time he took an interest in Lyla. He hated that prince and now more so than ever before. "Joffrey puts my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?"

"This is a royal command, My Lord," Luwin reminded the young lordling, being able to tell what Robb was thinking, he could see the anger at the accusations that his father was dishonorable or a traitor when he had left the North to serve the king as his hand. He did his best to try and qualm his righteous anger as best he could with guidance. "If you should refuse to obey..."

"I won't refuse," Robb cut in, looking down at the paper and taking a moment of thought. At best his father would be dishonored and sent to the Wall, at worst his father would be murdered for the crimes of treason. He knew his father was innocent and needed to act on behalf of his father and the North to free him. "His Grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone. Call the banners."

Theon looked up at his friend and smirked, he never believed Robb was capable of making such a rash decision of deciding to go to war and yet he was going to begin one for his father.

"All of them, My Lord?" Luwin cautiously asked.

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?"

"They have," Luwin whispered, sourly.

"Now we see what their words are worth," Robb concluded, making it clear that the acting Lord of Winterfell had made an order that Luwin was obligated to follow.

Luwin mumbled and walked off, there was not much he could do now but hope that the North would gather quick enough to stand a chance against the Lannister army that would

As Maester Luwin walked off, Robb quickly sat down thinking. He didn't regret his decision to call the banners, the queen had his sister writing letter of how his father was rotting in a prison cell named a traitor and then expected him to swear his fealty to him. Joffrey was a cruel boy with a crown on his head, but still no right to subjugate his father like that on what he assumed could only be false allegations if not just a response to the imps capturing that his mother had committed on the kingsroad.

There was no choice but to march with his father's bannermen to demand his release. He knew the story of how his Uncle Brandon was imprisoned when he demanded Prince Rhaegar return his sister, Lyanna, when the crown prince kidnapped her, and when his father, Lord Rickard, marched South to beg for his son, they were both deemed traitors and killed by the Mad King. While Joffrey was yet to prove himself as more than just a prick, but he would not take the bet with his father's life.

"Are you afraid?" Theon asked, knowing Robb had never seen a true conflict. Theon could remember the Greyjoy rebellion, he had not fought in it, but he had seen what war was like from a distance, something Robb was raised in ignorance of.

"I must be," Robb admitted, showing his shaking hand.

"Good," Theon smirked.

"Why is that good?" The heir questioned.

"It means you're not stupid."

Robb ate only a bite more before he dismissed himself with the purpose to find Lyla, he needed to talk to her before Luwin sent for the banners. The mistake he made last time was not telling her the truth when he should have, and now that she had wanted to give him a chance to earn her trust again, he didn't want to betray that trust again. He knew she went to her chambers, he remembered the lewd comment Theon made, and how she claimed she wasn't feeling too well because of the child, he hoped that she would be better when he arrived at her door.

When he reached her door, Vorian was not standing guard, he must have been dismissed by Lyla, or she wasn't there. Robb had never known anyone with their own sworn sword, he didn't mind Ser Vorian and he understood his purpose but the man looked at him in a way that made the young lord uncomfortable. The dornishman had a clear dislike for him and all the other Starks since his arrival in Winterfell and it hasn't changed at all in the months that passed until now. He spoke to him cordially and never with distain, but you could see it in his eyes he would have liked it better that he would never have to return to the North.

Robb knocked on the door and received no response as he knocked three times, he wondered if she ignored him or if she had left with Ser Vorian. Robb tried again, "Lyla, are you in here. We need to talk." When he called out and moved his ear closer to the door he could hear sniffling inside that let him know that his wife was inside, and it sounded as though there was something wrong. "Are you ill, Lyla?" He asked worriedly, to which he got no response to. He worried as he heard hard breaths and sniffling. Then he realized, she was upset because the king, her father, had died. He hadn't even considered how she would be in mourning with the death of her father. "Lyla."

"I'm alright, Robb, come in," she called out, breathy voice.

He opened the door to find Lyla sitting by the table in her room, note sat on her desk, eyes red and while she wiped her face there were still stains upon her cheek. She tried to look away so he couldn't see her burning red nose. She was ashamed that he saw her in such a weak state where she had been crying, she did not care if tears were called for with the passing of her father, she was always uncomfortable with people seeing her cry.

"Lyla," he muttered as he quickly entered and closed the door as he walked over to the sniffling princess who tried to hide herself.

"I assume you know," she dryly stated.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Lyla," Robb tried to offer her comforting words as he walked over to her and bent down on his knee in front of her, facing her flushed face as she looked up again to not look him in those deep blue eyes. He continued however, "I could never understand the loss of a father."

"You may so, as my atrociously cruel brother has imprisoned your father for treason, an absurd claim," she began, still not looking down but feeling Robb's own rage at Joffrey was the same as hers. "Too stupid a claim, that only he could possibly believe that honorable Ned was a traitor with ambitions to take the crown for himself." He almost laughed at her statement.

"I have called my father's banners," he admitted, wanting to be honest with her the moment he saw the pain on her face. He was glad they had come to the same conclusion. "When they arrive we will prepare to march South to King's Landing or until they release my father from his cell and of claims of treason."

She nodded her head, looking down now. Not at his eyes, she did her best to avoid his eyes as best he could, and instead focused on her own lap, that was beginning to be obscured with her own growing stomach. She had never noticed how much she had grown in four months. A small but prominent. She remembered the letter she had written her father because she wanted to be the one to tell him that her would be a grandfather. Now he would never meet her child, that made her so overwhelmed with sorrow it took all of her strength not to just burst into tears.

"I understand why you  _have_   _to_ ," she stated, giving the permission she knew he didn't need. "I only wish you  _didn't have to_." She kept looking down at her stomach, hands placed on her lap. "When I was a girl I watched my father leave to fight in the Greyjoy rebellion and I didn't know if I would ever see him again. If you leave now, to fight the Lannister army, what if you..."

Robb took Lyla's hands, "I haven't always been the best husband to you Lyla, but I have to march South for my father because the queen has my sister writing letters trying to have me swear my fealty while she is still betrothed to the prince." He rubbed her thumb, "I know this is conflicting for you, Joffrey is your brother and the queen is your mother, but my father is facing death, I have to do what I can..."

"I know, Robb," she cut him off looking him in the eyes with her glossy green eyes, "just don't leave this child fatherless." She held his hand enjoying it's warmth despite how he lived in a permeant coolness. "And I could think of many worse options of a husband than an heir to Winterfell," she teased.

"Other options?" he asked, in in a similarly teasing manor.

"Prince Quentin, the only ones who distrust Lannisters worse than the North are the dornish. And I hear he is terribly timid," she began playfully. "Lora Tyrell, so chivalrous and prettier than i am," she continued, swinging Robb's hands, "but was more interested in my uncle than myself. "You Aunt Lysa had suggested your cousin, Robin, but he still suckles at his mother's tit." Robb cringed, but still had his smile as the princess began to be more cheerful. "Any Frey would just be, uh," she crinkled her nose at the memory of that family, which made Robb chuckle.

"What a terrible line up of possible suitors," he guffawed.

"I know, how unlucky for me," she sniggered lightly. Looking down at their hands that were intertwined. Lyla wondered if she should have been more angry, if she wanted to let out more of her unbridled Baratheon fury that she spent so much time containing, but when she held his hand she was glad to have someone to comfort her in this moment that she needed. "Thank you, Robb," she thanked silently.

He looked at her, her soft face with glossed over emerald colored eyes, black hair cascading down from her head down to her lip, framing around her growing stomach that he could see as well, still overwhelmed at the thought that she was carrying  _his_ child. "You have nothing to thank me for," he looked away now.

"You've made me smile after my father passed when I couldn't be with him, when there is about to be a war between our houses," she stated, caressing his still soft hands slightly calloused from riding and training. "I never felt so much joy then when I realized I was going to be a mother." She knew she had her fears but there was so much happiness. "The night we were wed, my father told me he was glad to see me off to a good husband, many new husbands do so much worse, and I believe this was necessary at some point. My mother and father never cared to fight, only quiet resentment. But they never smiled at one another, or laughed, or held each others hand like this. Thank you."

"My pleasure, princess," he uttered, not knowing what else to say as he rose her hands up and kissed them the way he had when they first met on the front yard of Winterfell.

Lyla leant forward and held the nape of Robb's nape, burying her face into his shoulder as he wrap his arms around her in an embrace. Lyla could only be strong for so long and this child impaired all her senses and made it easier to accept the comfort given to her, or perhaps just how overwhelmed she felt by all the secrets she knew, how her life changed in a matter of months. She just wanted a moment to feel Robb against her, making her feel more warmth that she lacked since coming to Winterfell, the warmth she only knew when he had held her before.

"Robb I have something to tell you..."

 

* * *

 

_Lyla looked at the bandages that covered her hands now. They still felt a bit painful, but she refused to admit it when the Maester asked. She had always had a problem being vulnerable, admitting she required help, or asking for it. Either way, Bran was the one who had been attacked and still was sound asleep in his bed, she knew he needed their attention more than her, she was awake and well with only sore hands._

_She returned to her room and assured Vorian that with only a few hours until the sun would rise she would be alright, although he was unsure and argumentative as there had been an attack only down the hall and none of the guards in Winterfell were none the wiser. Lyla, of course, when she was serious on something, had a commanding voice akin to her father's loud and powerful voice to her grandfather's low but sharp tone. Vorian claimed he would give her a few hours of rest but then return when the sun rose to guard this door, earning a glare before he walked off._

_She looked down at the dress she had been making for her herself, she wanted to fit in better in the North, just as Lady Catelyn did, but she feared she would always be viewed as a Southern princess._

_There was a knock on the door and she groaned._

_"Ser Vorian, I swear to the Father Above," she began as she walked to the door, and instead of finding the older dornishman there, she was greeted by her husbands worried blue eyes that embarrassed her gravely._

_"I'm sorry, have I interrupted something?" he asked cordially._

_"No, I thought you were-" she cut herself off, no need to embarrass herself further. "Is there anything I can do for you, my lor-, Robb," she corrected._

_"No," he responded, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."_

_"Of course I'm alright, you should worry about your mother, your brother," she bit her lip and tried to move the conversation._

_"And then who would worry about you?" Robb interjected, she looked up in confusion. "You are my wife and someone held a knife to you."_

_"They held a knife to Bran, I grabbed it with my hands like a mad woman," she corrected him, chastising herself for acting such a fool. She should have been more careful with herself, called out for help, but the moment she saw that man, she dived in hands first and grabbed a blade and cut open her hands. Lucky not too deep to bleed to death, but hurt enough to make her hit herself in frustration at her own stupidity._

_"I've never seen a woman do something so absurd and brave," Robb commented, reaching down and asking for her hand, she placed her hand in his and he caressed it softly and carefully. "Perhaps with the exception of Arya," he added, making Lyla almost laugh aloud as she covered her mouth with her free hand. She remembered the rambunctious young lady who screamed in sewing lessons and much rather fight with swords in the yard with her brothers. Lyla never wanted to learn to fight, she never much cared for that, but they shared a love for horseback riding._

_She grinned brightly, "I could only dream to be that bold."_

_"I agree," he playfully pouted, making her giggle more._

_There was some silence and all she focused on was their hands. She began the night writing to her mother, wondering if she should call herself a Stark or a Baratheon. She remembered how Robb listened to her sing, she was embarrassed, she always felt so flustered around Robb unlike anyone else. She remember how it felt to look into his eyes then, the intimacy of his gaze, so different to any other sensation she ever felt before. It was familiar to earlier in the night when it was simpler._

_All the same, Robb leaned down a bit and Lyla leaned up, meeting together perfectly as their lips met in a gentle kiss. Lyla felt her cheek hear up again, brushing her hand forward and placing it around Robb's next as his hands went down to her waist holding it with caution and carefully. She thought they were both so nervous and awkward to hold each other like lovers. Lyla pulled apart to take a breath and looked him in the eyes and saw there was lust in those glorious azure eyes._

_"Robb," she muttered, lightly under her breath, almost as a question if he wanted to continue. He was her husband and she was supposed to not refuse him a place in her bed, and even if she was no longer a maiden, she still had her worries, feeling very bashful._

_"We don't have to," he tried to soothe her calmly._

_"What if I want to?" she questioned, more sultry than she intended._

_"Fuck," he lowly growled, leaning down and kissing her with more passion than before that threw all worries out of her mind, only focusing on Robb's lips and how they felt on her, how his hands quickly travelled over her body and how they groped her roughly but sensually. It was all still new to her, and Lyla was always completely lost in the moment._

_As Robb's hands trailed down her back, she felt herself stiffen a bit as he grabbed her and made her jump into his arms and he picked her into his arms. She took the moment his lips disconnected from hers to lift her to take in a deep breath and looked down at his proud smirk as she leaned down to meet him into another passionate kiss as Robb walked forward and kicked the door close behind them, too loud and carelessly but he couldn't care as he made the bold move to press his tongue against her lips before she let him in and they briefly fought for dominance._

_Lyla placed herself down at the front of her bed, needing to be closer to Robb with the ability to move. Breaking their kiss, she moved to unbutton his tunic wanting to be careful not to break a button in her haste. Robb thought the same as he guided his hands around her body and looked for an opening to pull from. Once she had opened his shirt, she felt his chest and pulled herself closer and Robb pulled down on her dress from her shoulders until it was on the floor and she was left bare before him. She felt a bit bashful, wanting to hide herself._

_"You're so beautiful, Lyla," he stopped to comment, she grinned wider than she ever had and brought him close for a searing kiss, caring very little as her body pressed against his as he pushed his shirt off and she began to work on removing his pants, which she helped untie._

_She carefully lowered herself down, Robb slowly lowered himself on top of her, keeping a good distance as he looked over her beautiful body. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, down her chest, leaving kisses on her stomach that made her blush painfully, and finally brought his lips down to between her legs. She was confused at the action but overwhelmed with the new sensation of pleasure as she felt his tongue move in her._

_"Robb," she moaned, not used to the sensation of being kissed between her legs like that. He simple smiled and continued to smile as he continued._

_Robb moved her legs wider, allowing him better access, keeping her legs opened with Robb kneeling down in front of her. Her head was rolled back, eyes in the back of her head, and she tried her best to hold back all of her moans as she focused on the sensations bellow. Robb lapped his tongue over her, moving his tongue in and out, making her pull him closer with her hands, even if injured, move to grab his soft curls and pull him closer to her core as she bit her lip to mask her moans but it soon became too much and she started to let out a few breathless moans, she could practically feel Robb smirk between her before continuing._

_She whimpered again in newfound sensations, reaching down to grab her husband and pulled him up to face her. She could feel herself moisten between her legs and Robb wiped his chin, she pulled him in close for another hard and passionate kiss, ignoring the taste and instead on how perfect the feeling of his mouth against hers was. Robb moved his ground and groped her breast, feeling the softness of her modest but feminine chest._

_Lyla moved herself to kiss him, moving herself beneath him, lying back with him on top of her, feeling him hard against her thigh. He groaned as she moved, and moved his head to her neck and kissed it softly and left little red marks, his hand still on her breast and moved another down to her waist and held on tightly, his grip almost painful._

_"Robb," you reminded him impatiently, "I need you." She looked so embarrassed, ashamed of how needy she was._

_A light shined behind his eyes, a decidedly soppy smile sneaking onto his lips. Robb had never heard Lyla sound like that before, it felt like a certain rush that made him want her more, but also an amount for fondness for his blushing wife who only he would see this way. He kissed her once more, gentler and filled with gentle this time._

_"Tell me if I hurt you," he asked her, kissing he chin, then your neck, then the slope of your breasts, and then the wound still wrapped in bandages. It stung, but the warmth of the kiss made it worth it. She nodded slowly, trysting that he wouldn't hurt her anyways, not intentionally anyways, he wasn't cruel, maybe a bit rough. "Now?"_

_You nodded eagerly, clenching your fists around the scratchy blanket to prepare herself. He lined himself at her entrance, slowly pushing himself in with careful restraint. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he gave her a moment._

_Lyla felt full, complete, much better than the first time when she felt unbelievable pain from her first time, instead was now small pain with the more powerful feeling of being full. The heat in her stomach grew in intensity, following the sweet feel of Robb as he pulled out of her, only to thrust back in. He growled lowly, taking hold of the wooden headboard as he repeated the action. She bit your lip to hold back a moan, almost making her lip bleed, again afraid to make too much noise._

_He continued his thrusts, finding a rhythm that she met him with at each stroke. The heat was growing, spreading from her toes to her fingertips and making her body numb. Robb could feel the budding heat as well, his thrusts becoming more erratic and quicker. Lyla had never realized how cold the North was then the moment she would feel true warmth when Robb and her were this close, it was burning hot and made it hard for her to breath, but she never felt better since passing the Neck months ago. Her breathing picked up._

_She was close, so close, and Robb was taking her closer. He brought her to the edge, moving in and out of your slick opening with such eagerness. With a few swipes of his finger against her sensitive clit and one, two, three more thrusts, he had her crashing down. The world shifted into something so right, her body ringing with pleasure, her mouth open in a silent plea of his name. He groaned Lyla's name, with the same passion. And within a few seconds it was gone. She were left in a euphoric haze of pleasure, your mind and body happily sated. Robb didn't fair much better. He was breathing heavily, his arms doing all they could to keep him supported and stop him from falling on her._

_"That was..." she couldn't find the right word to convey how amazing it was, she was sort of embarrassed to talk about it, worried he didn't feel the same, Lyla feared she hadn't pleasured him enough although she didn't have much of an idea how to pleasure a man. Robb instead nodded, understanding as he had only been with her._

_"Yeah," he agreed, rolling to the side of her._

_She turned to face him, and instead of embarrassment they both let out tired laughs and calming smiles. She felt a bit more bravery and reached out with her bandaged hand and pushed his curls back as she leaned in and gave him a kind kiss, almost to insist he spend the night. Robb moved closer and placed an arm around her, accepting her invitation to spend the night with her, somewhat grateful he didn't have to walk to his bed in this manor. She laid her head on his chest as he played with some of her hair. Lyla hummed mindlessly, following the sound of Robb's loud beating heart. She enjoyed the sensation until she drifted to sleep._

_She realized she was wrong earlier. The warmest she felt since arriving in Winterfell was the moment after. The moment she felt most vulnerable when she could reach over and let herself be held in a way that made her warm and feel protected. She realized that she rather liked being held in Robb's arms while she rested._


End file.
